


Regardless of desire, life hands you who you are

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Aurors, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, False Accusations, Fingering, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter to the Rescue, Hurt Draco Malfoy, Interrogation, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Masseuse Draco Malfoy, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Protective Pansy Parkinson, Rimming, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Coercion, Threats of Violence, Undersecretary Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: When Draco finds himself wrongly accused – of course it's Potter whoswoops in to save the day. Isn't it always Potter?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 70
Kudos: 773
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	Regardless of desire, life hands you who you are

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[10](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> I truly enjoyed writing this, even though I said I'd not write this year. Famous last words. I have to thank my _team_ \- who pushed me along, saw me through and possibly told me to shut up and write. B – the peanut butter to my jelly. This absolutely would not be done or anything near understandable if not for you. T – for being the best alpha and cheerleader possible. E – for jumping in at the last minute to beta this and for finding all those pesky typos, missing commas and making me sound better. And TB – for listening, letting me whinge, and for being the very best _support staff_ EVER. Oh, and for those two lines – you know the ones. ♥
> 
> And to the mods for patience beyond imagination when this grew from the intended 10k to nearly 30k.
> 
> The title comes from an inspirational speech by Casey Haymes.

Draco tugged his pillow over his head, loud pounding disturbing his sleep. Slowly, he tried to pull himself out of the ridiculous dream he was having, something about Pansy and a litter of baby Kneazles that all looked like Granger's hideous specimen. Disgruntled, he rolled over and tried to find his wand on the bedside table.

"Bloody buggering hell," he muttered as the wand skittered past his fingertips and clattered to the floor. He sat up and rubbed his eyes realizing not only was the pounding still going on, but someone was shouting his name.

"Open the damn door, Malfoy. This is your last chance before we come in," a deep voice called out.

He'd barely registered what was said before he heard his door crash open, shouting and heavy footsteps on the stairs. He jumped out of bed trying to make some sense of what was happening, when he was surrounded by Aurors, their red robes a horrible disruption in his mostly off-white bedroom. With their wands drawn and pointed directly at him.

"It's two in the bloody morning. What the fuck—" His words were cut off when one of the Aurors shouted " _Silencio _".__ Draco felt his voice dry up in his throat, all sound choked off.

"I've got upstairs," one called out. Another shouted, "Heading down." And a third called over them all with, "On this level."

He heard them all at once, while at the same time he felt ropes wrap tightly around his body. He glared at no one in particular.

An Auror stepped in front of him, a particularly unattractive sort with cropped dirty blond hair and darker stubble, and he sneered. "Not so smart now, are you? Nothing but a fucking Death Eater. Thought you could get away with it, did you?"

Draco blinked, his mind whirling, his fists clenching in frustration. He forced his lips into a grim line. At least that way his mouth wouldn't flop about like a landed fish, no sound coming out. He could imagine how much the bastard in front of him would enjoy that.

The sound of glass crashing came from above and from below, and Draco could hear tables being pushed over. My potions, my lab! he thought. His mind was racing and for a brief, mad moment he wondered if he'd be able to Apparate… without speaking a word or using his wand.

The Auror closest to him pushed Draco and he struggled to remain on his feet. "You know exactly why we're here, Death Eater. So don't try and pretend you don't," he said before turning to the stairs. "I'm gonna take this piece of shite in. Finish up here and then get to the Ministry."

With that, Draco felt the pull of Apparition and he spun out of his house.

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco landed with a hard jolt and he had to fight to stay on his feet. He looked around and his heart sank. The dark-tiled walls and the domed ceiling of the circular corridor were all too familiar. The last time he'd seen this part of the Ministry was when he'd been brought here to await his trial for his part in the death of Albus Dumbledore. The Auror who'd Apparated him in shoved Draco down the hall, grabbing his arm to throw him into a plain, spartan cell. Pushing Draco inside, he waved his wand and removed the spells that had been placed on him while he'd still been at home. Draco stumbled against the wall, catching himself with his hands and forcing himself to remain standing.

"Why in the hell am I here?" he demanded.

"Don't play stupid," the Auror shot back. "It won't help. You know what the hell you've done and the sooner you admit to it, the better it will go for you." He huffed. "Not like it'll do you any good, you Death Eater scum." He pulled the cell door shut with a clang, and Draco felt a horrid chill race over his skin. That sound – his throat worked. The Auror sneered and walked away.

Draco collapsed on the edge of the hard cot and wondered, not for the first time in his life, just exactly how much trouble he was in and what the hell they thought he'd done.

Draco jolted awake, his first thought _Merlin, that was a ridiculous dream_. Reality set in when he opened his eyes to find he wasn't in his comfortable bed or in his flat above his workspace. He truly was in a freezing holding cell at the Ministry. Sitting on the edge of the cot, Draco leaned forward with his head in his hands, trying to think and working to push away the despair seeping into his thoughts. He tried to recall what the Aurors had said when they burst into his flat. He went over it in his head and still had no clue why he was here. Approaching footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts and an Auror stopped at his cell door with a tray in his hands.

"Breakfast," he said, pushing the tray through the small slot in the door. It landed with a _thump_ onto the table that sat about six inches below. Water splashed all over the food as the cup tipped onto its side.

"Might wanna have your arse at the door next time. If we decide you get to eat again." He gave Draco an evil glare. "Better try to eat something, they'll be coming for you soon."

"Coming for me?" Draco asked, standing and moving quickly to the bars. He grabbed them with his hands. "Why am I here? What exactly is it I'm being accused of?"

"Playing stupid won't save you this time," the man spat out with an evil smirk. "Now eat your food. I'll be back in five minutes to take you to piss and wash your face. Maybe we'll even give you time to do your hair." He walked away laughing like he thought he was hilarious.

Draco looked at the sloppy mess on the tray and his stomach roiled. He should be home, damnit. Eating scones with clotted cream and jam. Maybe a soft-boiled egg and soldiers. Not, he looked down again and gagged, whatever the grey slop was on that old and very rusty tray.

Returning to sit on the side of the bed, Draco raked his hands through his hair. He longed for a hot shower and some clothes that weren't the rough cotton prison garb he'd been given to wear. He needed to think…what possible reason did the Aurors have for breaking into his home in the middle of the night? There was not a thing he could think of. He'd been sure to pay his taxes on time and nothing about his business was illegal.

" _Death Eater,_ " Draco whispered. They'd called him that over and over. He'd been cleared of all that shite years before. True, he had the Mark, but it was proven he'd taken it under duress. And hadn't it been a pisser to learn St Potter had a front row seat in Voldemort's head for that? He shook his head. Not the time to worry about it. He was going over the past few weeks in his head when he heard someone approaching.

The Auror from before was back. "Let's move, pretty boy," the guard sneered. "Time for you to get dolled up. You've got a big day ahead of you." He laughed as if he thought he was the funniest thing around. Draco found absolutely nothing to laugh about.

He knew from being held before his trial that what they called the shower room wasn't somewhere he'd willingly take off his clothes. Draco followed the guard down the hall, turning into the open room that housed four stainless steel toilets along one wall and four shower heads along another. The waist high walls between the toilets and the shower heads did little to allow any privacy. Draco went to the toilet and did what needed to be done. He turned away from the showers, instead choosing to move toward the sinks that were across from the showers. The water barely dripped out and the soap dispenser was empty. He splashed ice-cold water on his face and ran his wet fingers through his hair, now more than ever, happy he'd begun to wear it short several years before.

"I'm done," he said flatly to the Auror.

"What? Not gonna strip for me? Seems to me you'd feel right at home doing that."

Draco stared at the guard, a smart retort on his tongue. Instead he bit his lip and ran a hand down his side as he remembered what happened the last time he'd smart-mouthed a Ministry guard. These men knew how to cause pain that sent you to your knees without leaving a visible mark behind. No, he thought, best to keep his mouth shut. Lowering his eyes, he followed the guard back to his cell.

Draco had barely a moment to think about what was going on when one of the Aurors from the night before was at his cell door. "Let's go, fancy boy. Time for us to get some answers from you."

Draco looked at the Auror. He took a deep breath. "No," he said clearly.

"Don't be an idiot. Do you have any idea what I could do to you?" He laughed. "Now get your pansy arse off that bed before you need help walking for the rest of your life!"

Draco stood slowly and moved forward. The Auror opened the cell door and grabbed his arm in a tight grip and twisted. Draco grimaced, unable to help himself. "Now walk because I won't tell you again." Draco wanted to twist his arm out of the bastard's grip, spit in his face and run. But he knew better than to try anything so foolish. Best, he decided, to go along and try to figure out what the fuck they thought he'd done.

Calling the room they took him to _stark_ was giving it more credit than it deserved. There was one light, which was really just a bulb hanging from a cord in the middle of the ceiling. Draco saw another Auror inside and felt a chill run through his body. There was also a tiny table, not much bigger than the parchment that sat on top of it, one chair against the far wall and two that were closer to the door. It didn't take a whizz at Alchemy, and Draco _was_ a whizz at Alchemy, to figure out that he wasn't going to get a seat near the door. The Auror pushed him so hard Draco tripped inside, nearly falling on his face. That was apparently quite amusing to the Aurors, because they laughed uproariously.

"Pansy can't even walk," one of them sniggered.

Draco tried to keep his tongue, the little voice inside his head— that sounded so much like Professor Snape it startled him— told him to keep his tongue, but Draco was tired, hungry and quite fed up with the entire situation.

"You complete buffoon," Draco shouted. "I nearly cracked my head on that wall!"

The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew he should have listened to Severus' voice. The larger Auror charged across the room and backhanded Draco so fast he didn't have a chance to duck or pivot and he took the full blow to his cheek. His head snapped back and pain shot up the side of his face.

"Fucks sake, Beecham," the shorter, square-shouldered Auror said, pulling Beecham away from Draco as he ordered him to sit. "What the fuck you thinking?"

"I'm not letting that slimeball pansy-arsed prick talk to me like that." He shrugged his arm free. "Nobody talks to me like that. Not even you, Holden."

"The boss won't be pleased you hit 'im," Holden said, shaking his head. "Let's just do this and be done."

Beecham turned muttering under his breath, "We should just toss his arse into Azkaban and throw away the key."

Draco watched the interaction with interest. He mentally repeated their names over and over in his head, along with details of the way the two men interacted with each other. He shifted in his chair, trying not to appear as if he was listening to them talk.

Beecham sat in one of the other chairs and waved his wand. Ropes materialised and tied Draco into the chair. "In case he gets any ideas about trying to leave," Beecham stated.

Holden shook his head and sat. He looked at Draco for several seconds, his eyes hard. "All right," he said finally. "You know why you're here, so just tell us what we want to know."

Draco returned his stare, his brow furrowed. "How can I tell you anything when I have absolutely no idea why I'm here."

Beecham raised his wand, pointing it directly at Draco's heart. "Don't play stupid. You know why you're here. Just tell us what we want to know and maybe your skinny arse won't end up in Azkaban, even though that's exactly where it belongs."

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to think. Had they told him why they burst into his home and hauled him to the Ministry holding cells? Had he hit his head…well before it was nearly knocked off his shoulders a few minutes ago? "I'd probably be more than happy to tell you any number of things, if I simply had some idea what information you're looking for. I was dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and thrown into a Ministry holding cell. This morning I was given a tray of food that even a starving Murtlap wouldn't touch and then – humiliated by being watched while I pissed. And now, after nearly having my head removed from my body, I'm sitting here in ropes…and I still have no fucking clue what you want or what you seem to think I know."

Beecham rose and Draco braced for another punch. Holden moved quickly and stood between the two men. "Take it easy, Beecham."

Holden looked at Draco. "Tell us about your work."

"My work?" Draco asked, clearly confused. "I'm a massage therapist, dealing mainly in holistic healing."

Beecham scoffed and said under his breath, "Is that what they call it these days?"

"What does my occupation have to do with being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night?"

Crossing his large, muscular arms across his chest, Beecham leaned back in his chair. "Awfully nice place you've got for a Death Eater without a pot to piss in after the Ministry was done with you."

Draco felt his insides go to ice. He doubted either of these _geniuses_ were capable of performing Legilimency, let alone spelling it, but he strengthened his Occlumency shields to be on the safe side.

Keeping his tone flat and his voice calm, Draco replied, "I worked after the Ministry so kindly took everything and then went to uni. Learned a trade and became quite good at it."

"So we hear." Beecham laughed, elbowing Holden. "And?"

Draco shrugged. "And I saved my money, invested wisely and purchased my current residence."

Both Holden and Beecham asked Draco the same questions, over and over until he finally snapped.

"Tell us what you do all day," Beecham asked for the third time.

"Are you quite deaf or simply so thick that you don't understand English? I've answered that same question at least three times, and I'm not going to repeat myself. If you're incapable of retaining information, I suggest you use a _Quick-Quotes-Quill_ to take notes for you."

"Why you fuck-faced twit!" Beecham roared. "I'm not taking that shit from a fucking Death Eater!" Holden grabbed his arm and Beecham easily shook himself free.

Draco knew the punch was coming, but when it hit him right in the gut and not in the face as he'd expected, he retched. Given that his stomach was empty, he simply heaved for several moments before stopping. His breath was ragged and he panted for air.

"That's enough," Holden snapped. "We'll just take him back to his cell and let him think about things. Maybe if someone forgets to deliver a dinner tray, he'll be more likely to talk to us tomorrow."

Draco was sure Beecham was going to ignore Holden and backhand him again. Instead, he got a wicked gleam in his eyes and an evil smile appeared. "Or maybe his dinner will have a little something special in it. Something that will make it impossible not to tell us what we want to know."

Holden looked as if he was going to disagree, but simply shrugged. "Never know what can happen here."

The ropes holding Draco vanished and Holden took Draco by the arm. "I'll take him back to his cell. I'm not in the mood to explain any more _accidents_."

♥ ♥ ♥

Back in his cell, Draco paced back and forth…back and forth. What did his occupation have to do with anything? Draco simply could not understand what difference it could possibly make in the world. His business licence was a matter of public record. Anybody who cared to look could see he was the owner and general proprietor of _Transcendence_.

The Auror who delivered his meal didn't speak, just shoved the tray through the slot. Draco glanced as it bounced against the table top, food sloshing in the water as it spilled across the tray.

"Take it away," Draco said dismissively. "I'm not going to eat it."

The Auror shrugged. He waved his wand and the tray disappeared. "Suit yourself, prissy boy," his tone as dismissive as Draco's. "Ain't nobody gonna come with a fancy plate of food for you, but if you'd rather starve," he shrugged, "makes no difference to me."

Draco continued to stand with his back to the cell doors, praying that he wasn't about to be AK'd where he stood. When he finally heard footsteps moving away, Draco turned and stared at the empty table. His stomach rumbled and at the same time roiled with dread.

He moved to sit on the edge of the skinny, sagging mattress that covered the metal cot. Draco didn't even want to think about the vile things that had occurred on that mattress and that paper-thin excuse for a sheet wasn't much better. He rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head to his hands. Nothing made any sense. He was a nobody anymore, really. He worked, paid his bills on time and did his best to live a better life. He knew he'd been given a second chance and had no intention of doing anything to ruin that chance.

So what in the name of Merlin's saggy pants did these Aurors think he'd done? His mind flitted back to the time after the trials. The Ministry had originally left them alone. The fact that Harry Potter claimed Narcissa Malfoy was the only reason he'd been able to get out of the forest and defeat Voldemort had protected them. Then when she'd been killed, they had decided the Malfoy vaults should be taken. They somehow even managed to convince the French government to seize the vaults they held there. Then he'd been given that second chance and Draco took it, despite how it made him feel, and it changed his life.

His mind still in the past, Draco turned and stretched out on the cot. He pulled the excuse for a blanket over himself and fell into a fitful sleep filled with dreams.

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco woke with a start, his heart racing, his body chilled from the cold sweat of his nightmares. He reached instinctively for his wand, only his hand fell through the air. After a moment he remembered he wasn't at home in his comfortable bed with the thick mattress, soft sheets, and warm covers. And his wand wasn't on the bedside table. He shivered slightly under the thin blanket and scrubbed at his face, flinching as his hand ran over his swollen cheek. Without even looking, Draco was certain it had an impressive bruise. The bastard who'd hit him hadn't pulled his punch. He'd been dreaming, and where his dreams were more often than not comforting to him, this one had shaken him to his core. All he remembered was being in a room surrounded by Aurors and all of them yelling at him. _"Stop lying and tell us how you did it!"_

Draco swung his legs over, sat up, and looked down at his hands. He was surprised to see they were trembling. When his empty stomach growled, he wasn't sure if they trembled as an after-effect of the dream or the fact he'd not eaten in over twenty-four hours.

Apparently that was the signal, because at that moment a guard shuffled down the corridor and slid his breakfast tray onto the table. "You've got fifteen minutes, then I'll be back so you can go take a piss."

Draco waited until he'd left and then walked over to look at the tray. It was a bowl of grey glop, pretending to be porridge, and a cup with about three tablespoons of tea in it. He took a deep breath and picked up the cup. He'd raised it to his lips when Beecham's voice sounded in his head: _"Or maybe his dinner will have a little something special in it. Something that will make it impossible not to tell us what we want to know."_

He'd refused his dinner, maybe they put it in his breakfast. He dropped the cup on the tray, sending the meagre amount of tea splashing over the poor excuse for food. He stared at it for a few moments before going back to sit on the edge of the cot, desperately trying to ignore the aching emptiness in his belly, willing himself not to cry.

When the guard came back, Draco followed him down to the shower room. He used a pitifully thin flannel to wash himself as best he could, wishing for his wand and a cleansing spell. He knew he had the sour stench of sweat and fear on his skin, but there was no way Draco would remove one piece of clothing in front of anyone in the building, even for a wash. The bruise on his face throbbed, making Draco wonder if it looked as bad as it felt.

♥ ♥ ♥

Beecham and Holden were sitting at the small table in the interrogation room when the guard pushed Draco through the door. Beecham's face was pinched, as if he'd sucked on a lemon, and his eyes were cold as he stared at Draco. It made him wonder if another backhand was in his future, until he caught sight of the small vial he held in his hand. He was rolling it back and forth between his fingers, his cold hard stare sending a chill down Draco's spine.

"Sit down," Holden growled. "We're pretty fucking tired of you dancing around our questions; now we want answers."

Beecham held up the vial. "And we'll get them outta you one way or another." He laughed as he elbowed Holden in the side. "Right?"

Draco sat, turning his eyes to stare at the floor, still not understanding what they wanted to know.

"Looking a little rough this morning, Malfoy. What's the matter? Wrong soap in the shower? Because it's pretty obvious you didn't take one again today; I can smell your stench across the room."

Beecham stood. "Maybe we should take him down there and throw him under the water until he talks. I'm not sure I can sit in this room with him stinking like he does. I may lose my breakfast."

Draco looked up. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. I'm a massage therapist. I brew some oils and tonics for my clients to help them with muscle pain or sometimes to help them sleep." He threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't know what else you want me to tell you."

"Let's try this one again. How about you tell us how you manage to live in a fairly decent townhouse when not that long ago you had nothing!"

"I told you before," Draco answered, mentally raising his Occlumency shields, "I worked for a bit and then went to uni and studied. After I graduated, I saved every Knut I could, and finally I could afford a small storefront for my business." He didn't add that once he felt enough time had passed, he bought the brownstone he currently lived in and moved his office to the lower level.

"Bullshit and lies!" Holden barked. "Now you start telling the truth, or I'm going to let Beecham loose with that Veritaserum."

Draco struggled to keep his voice calm, his tone even. "I'm not lying." And he prayed to Merlin again that neither of these men had an ounce of Legilimency skill. "I told you already. My business is audited every year by the Ministry. Don't you think they'd have discovered if I was hiding anything?"

Holden looked as if he was giving that some consideration when Beecham hit him in the arm. "Don't let that lying sack of shit get to you!"

"Okay that's it," Holden said, "give it to him."

Beecham looked like all his holiday wishes had been granted. He stood and walked over to Draco. "Open your mouth."

Draco sat very still, eyes half closed and lips pressed tightly together.

♥ ♥ ♥

Harry dropped his rucksack on the floor with a sigh before sitting heavily in his chair. The stakeout hadn't gone exactly as planned. Three days in god-forsaken Wales and not a sniff of the suspect. He was so frustrated by the entire fiasco, all he wanted to do was go home and take a very hot shower. He'd just started to look through the files on his desk when Atkinson poked his head in the office door.

"Hey boss," Atkinson said amiably, "wasn't sure if you'd heard that they brought in a Death Eater a couple days ago and have him in interrogation."

Harry's head popped up. "What Death Eater and why? And why the fuck don't I have the arrest papers on my desk?"

Atkinson shrugged. "No clue. I hear Beecham got an order and him and Holden went right off and brought him in."

Harry stood, shaking his head. "Those two morons? I don't even want to think about how many laws they've broken."

He strode past Atkinson, then stopped and turned back. "Thanks for the heads-up, Atkinson. I'd better go and see what kind of shit-storm they've created."

As he walked, Harry read the latest intel on the potions ring they'd been trying to break up in Cardiff. The lift lurched to a stop and Harry got out, heading straight to the interrogation rooms. It only took a minute for him to hear raised, angry voices coming from the closest room.

"What the bloody hell…" Harry's words trailed off when he opened the door and saw Draco Malfoy being manhandled by Beecham.

♥ ♥ ♥

"Open your fucking mouth, Malfoy," Beecham snarled, "or I'll open it for you." He put his hand under Draco's chin as the door to the interrogation room slammed open.

Draco looked up. The words _thank Merlin_ died on his lips when he saw Harry fucking Potter standing in the doorway.

Harry's voice was hard. "What the bloody hell is going on here?" His eyes shifted from Beecham to Holden and back again. With a _snap_ of his fingers the vial flew from Beecham's hand and into Harry's.

Harry flicked the cork off with his thumb and sniffed. "Veritaserum? Are you out of your fucking minds?"

"He's a criminal, Deputy Auror Potter," Holden said. "We were trying to get the truth out of him."

Harry turned and stared. "What have you charged him with?"

Beecham and Holden exchanged cagey looks.

"Well, we haven't done that yet," Beecham said, tone defensive.

"Step away from Mr Malfoy, Beecham," Harry's voice was stern and a muscle flexed in his jaw. "Before you add to the charges I'm certain Mr Malfoy will press as soon as he's released."

"Charges against us? What for?" Holden practically squeaked.

"Let's see," Harry said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Let's start with holding him without charging him of a crime. Then there's that bruise on his face. Looks like your handiwork, Beecham. And I'm sure the list will go on from there."

Harry looked at Draco. "Mr Malfoy, would you like to press charges against these two— Aurors," he ground out the word, "—who I'm ashamed to say, work for me?"

"I don't need your help, Potter," Draco replied.

Harry shook his head. "You two," he pointed at Beecham and Holden, "get your arses into my office. I'll be in there shortly."

He waited until they'd left the room before he crossed over to Draco, crouching down in front of him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I don't need your help, Potter," Draco repeated. "I don't even know what the hell is happening."

"If you don't know what's happening, you clearly need someone's help." Draco glared at him. Harry glanced towards the door. "I don't have much time. I've been on a stake-out in Cardiff and only just returned. I was in my office when I heard about a Death Eater being arrested."

"I was never fucking arrested!" Draco shot to his feet, forcing Harry to lean back and catch himself on his hand or fall on his arse. "I've been dragged out of my home in the middle of the night. A home which I'm quite certain has been destroyed by your fucking lot. I've been threatened, backhanded and given food a dying rat wouldn't eat. But I have not been arrested, nor have I been told why any of this has happened."

"I don't know what's going on. I'll be working on that. I didn't even know it was you down here. If they didn't clearly tell you why you were brought in and detained, that is illegal and a breach of protocol. Now get out of here and go home. I'm going to find out what I can and I'll be there later."

"Whatever they think I did, they're wrong," Draco said heatedly. "I've done nothing illegal, and I don't need any help. I'm going home, where I want to assess the damages, take a hot bath to wash this ridiculous experience off, find something better than the slop here to eat and be left alone. Then I'll be seeking legal counsel."

"At least let me find out what's going on, so you can tell your solicitor the charges." He held up his hands when Draco glared at him again. "Don't hex the messenger. They must think they have something, or you wouldn't be here."

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I don't need your help, Potter. These are trumped up charges that will come to nothing. Now leave me alone and let me get the fuck out of here. Go save someone who needs it."

Draco stalked out the door and down the hall, leaving Harry standing alone in the interrogation room.

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco stepped out of the Floo and into his kitchen and stopped. Every dish had been pulled from its place and smashed to the floor. The storage bins had been dumped leaving the floor covered in flour and sugar and eggshells. Even the contents of the refrigerator had been pulled out and the door left standing open. The resulting mess had _festered_ over the last two days and the smell was horrific. Draco clapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to breathe.

" _Evanesco_ ," he said with a vicious slash of his hand, and the entire mess vanished. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Nothing to be done for it,_ he thought and started up the stairs. The main floor was also in complete shambles. Cushions and pillows pulled from the furniture, ripped open and left with stuffing hanging sadly from the tears. It was all he could do not to fall to the floor in hopeless despair.

Steeling himself, Draco took a deep breath, and then exhaled. He wasn't certain he had it in him to explore any further. He suspected he'd not find a clean towel and possibly not even a sliver of soap to use in the shower. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he lifted his filthy hands and ran them through his stringy, greasy hair. He walked into his sitting room and looked at the broken dish of Floo powder on the hearth and sighed. The powder was mixed with ash; it would never work now. Realising what he'd have to do, he knew only one person on this earth he could turn to right now and unfortunately, he was going to have to break the number one rule of wizarding courtesy. He was going to Apparate in, uninvited, and he prayed she was alone.

At that moment, Draco realised he wasn't exactly sure where his wand was. He recalled it skittering off the side table when the Aurors came in, but right now he couldn't go upstairs to find it. For perhaps this one time in his life, Draco silently thanked his father for teaching him to Apparate wandlessly. He concentrated and thought of his destination as he spun into darkness. He landed in the middle of Pansy's pristine living room and found a wand pointed directly at his heart.

"I know the _killing curse_ and I'm not afraid to use it," Pansy said, her voice steady and cold. "Now get the fuck out of my house."

Draco looked up from the wand pointing at him. "Pans, it's me," he said with a quiet waver in his voice, "Draco."

Her eyes narrowed into small slits. As he'd thought, she wasn't wearing her glasses – she never did, the vain cow, and when she did recognise him her eyes grew wide. She lowered her wand. "What the ever-living fuck, Draco!" She wrinkled her nose and took a step back. "Why do you look and smell like you've been living in a bin?"

"I've been on a short holiday," he answered, his voice dripping sarcasm, "in the lovely holding cells, courtesy of the Ministry and two Aurors who won't be Aurors when my solicitors are finished with them."

"Wait…what?" Pansy stammered.

"Pans, I promise to tell you everything. But I need a shower almost more than I need to breathe right now."

Pansy winced. "You are more than a bit _ripe_ , which certainly makes that reasonable. But believe me, when you don't smell like a dead Plimpy, I will get an explanation."

Draco nodded, then closed his eyes. "I hate to ask, but have any of your _amants_ left any clothing behind I might borrow?"

Pansy only rolled her eyes in response. "Go. Get into the shower before the stench rolling off you permanently permeates the fabric of my furniture." She gave him a gentle shove down the hall. "I think I can find something that will work for you."

He nodded and turned away.

♥ ♥ ♥

She watched Draco as he walked down her hallway, like a man who'd been defeated by the world. She was more than curious about what was going on, but more than that she was concerned about her dearest friend.

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco came out of the shower, wearing joggers and a hoodie that might have fit Greg better than they fit him. He'd rolled the jogging bottoms up several times to keep from tripping on them and the hoodie hung to his knees. But he was clean, warm and from the smells coming from the living room…about to have some decent food.

He saw Pansy look up at him and blink.

"Draco, I really didn't think Jon was that much larger than you!"

"Thanks, Pans," Draco said with a smile. "I wasn't certain if these belonged to someone current or if a tailoring charm could be used on them."

Pansy scoffed. "Here," she said, waving her wand, "allow me. Jon is long gone." As she spoke the joggers and hoodie adjusted until they fit Draco quite nicely.

"Thanks. And I might possibly love you forever if whatever is in that tureen tastes as good as it smells." He sat on the couch, looking hungrily at the tray on the table in front of him.

Pansy lifted the lid to uncover what appeared to be a hearty stew of some sort. She laughed at the slightly apprehensive look on Draco's face. "Oh, don't look like that. I fire-called daddy and had their elves put something together."

Draco visibly relaxed and set a roll with a huge pat of butter on his plate. He accepted the bowl Pansy offered him and curled into the corner of the couch. He took a few bites and sighed in pleasure before he looked at Pansy. "I know I owe you an explanation, but I'm not sure where to even start." He frowned. "Perhaps the beginning."

"That's usually best," she said, editing the sarcasm from her tone. He'd be eternally grateful for that.

"At about two the other morning," he began, "several Aurors showed up at my flat, took me into custody, destroyed my home and almost everything I own, and I still have no earthly idea what the fuck I'm supposed to have done."

Pansy goggled.

Draco took a few more bites before using his bread to sop up a bit of the gravy and then setting the bowl aside.

Pansy leaned forward. "They didn't tell you... anything? There were no charges filed?"

"None that I was informed about."

"Draco, that's illegal."

"I'm aware. And there's much more you need to know, but I'm so ridiculously knackered." He yawned. "I need some sleep so I can tell you all of it."

"I do want to know everything, but given you look as if you're about to fall asleep, I think it would be best if you got some rest. I have a feeling this isn't going to be a quick story."

"No, not a quick story. One thing I will say, the Ministry holding cells have **not** improved one bit since my last _visit_ there." Draco stood, then leaned over to buss Pansy on the cheek. "Have I told you recently how much I adore you?"

Pansy smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Your flirting is wasted on me, darling. I know you're gay as a Maypole. Now go get some sleep, because we will be talking at length when you get up."

Draco smiled wanly and shuffled down the hall into the guest room.

Pansy sent the dishes to the kitchen and contacted Nelli to come and clean it all up, then settled back onto the couch and picked up the book she'd been reading when Draco had _burst_ into her flat. She'd read the same line several times, unable to concentrate, when she was startled by a sharp knock on her door. Not expecting anyone, she didn't get right up, but rose slowly, picking up her wand, when there were three sharp raps a few minutes later. If any Ministry tits thought they'd get to her friend in her home, they had another thing coming.

At the door she looked through the wizard peep and was shocked to see Harry Potter at her door. She held her wand close to her side and cautiously opened the door. Unfortunately, she couldn't hex him on sight as she wished. She remembered hearing he'd gone up through the Auror ranks and was an officer. She'd have to be polite, even if it killed her. Which it might.

"May I help you, Auror Potter?" Pansy asked, her tone just this side of glacial.

"Pan…erm…Ms Parkinson, is Draco Malfoy here?" Harry stammered. So much for his gaining any polish with his rank.

Pansy paused and looked at the man in front of her. He had improved with age, growing both taller and broader. His hair was still a disaster, but there was no missing the evidence of his rank on his sleeve. Right then he practically vibrated with tension. Remembering what Draco had said about where he'd recently been, anger filled her and she raised her wand and pointed it at Potter. At the moment she didn't give a damn about his rank.

"Why should I tell you anything? Haven't you and your lot done enough to make his life miserable? And what's he done? Nothing! He's worked hard, gone to school, and made a nice career for himself. He doesn't bother anyone and yet you all just can't go beyond the fact that his father was a Death Eater." She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to regain her composure. It didn't work. "Well news flash! You may be the Chosen One. You may be the high and mighty Deputy Head Auror, but he owes you _nothing!_ " She had never raised her voice for fear of waking Draco, but her tone was fierce. "Unless you intend to fucking arrest me, get the hell away from my door and go bother someone else!" As she closed the door, she hissed, "You absolute shagging wanker!" She tried to slam it for effect and was surprised when it met resistance.

Potter had shoved his foot in the opening. He winced as the door compressed it between the frame and the door. "Son of a bitch, that hurt." He looked down at the diminutive, but fierce, brunette. "He wasn't at his flat." His cheeks flushed. "Just tell me if he's all right."

"Why the fuck would I tell you anything, you arsehole?"

He pushed against the door with his shoulder. "At least tell him I was here, yeah?"

"I'm not telling him anything from you, tosspot. Now get the fuck away from my door. I know spells that I'd hoped to never use again, but I will." Pansy stood her ground against him, her chin raised.

Potter sighed but stepped back from the door, and she closed it with a bang.

Pansy stood looking at the door for several seconds, wondering why the Deputy Head Auror was so interested in where Draco was, if he wasn't there to arrest him. Or was it concern she'd seen in those green eyes?

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco woke suddenly from a dream that included Voldemort and his crazy aunt Bellatrix. He rolled to his back and covered his eyes with an arm, sighing deeply. The room was nearly dark, which meant he'd slept much of the day away. He hadn't dreamt about either of those lunatics in years and wasn't best pleased to have them making an appearance in his head. All that dream had needed was his father, and it would have been a perfect trifecta of terror. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up. If having those two in his head wasn't bad enough, he also had a dream with Potter in it. Not that Potter dreams were completely unusual, but in this one Draco was fighting with Pansy in the Great Hall as she tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort.

He stood and looked at himself in the mirror over the chest of drawers and grimaced. He had bags under his eyes that were a pale shade of purple and, if possible, his cheekbones seemed to stand out even more. There was a dark purple bruise on his right cheekbone, and he reached up to prod it experimentally, grimacing at the resulting pain. He had the same look he'd had at the end of war when he'd been under house arrest. Under weight and suffering from insomnia, he'd looked like a ghost.

Draco shook his head quickly, as if to erase the memories and his maudlin mood. He knew he was stalling. He needed to go tell Pansy the whole story, but even now after getting some sleep he didn't have a fucking clue what was going on or why he'd been dragged to the Ministry.

He imagined he'd find Pansy expectantly waiting for him. Instead he found her sitting in the near dark, the only light the fire, chewing on her thumbnail.

"Okay," he said, flipping on a light switch, "what is it?"

She blinked in the sudden light, startled, then her expression smoothed. She lifted her chin. "How do you know it's anything?"

"You're destroying what appears to be your new manicure, which you only do when royally pissed off. In the dark, I might add. So, who pissed you off?"

She dropped her hand into her lap, sniffing. "You had a visitor while you were asleep."

Draco's brow furrowed. "A visitor? No one knows I'm here. Who in the name of Merlin's saggy pants would be looking for me here?"

"Deputy Head Auror, Harry Potter," she said stiffly, crossing her arms. "Care to tell me why, as it didn't appear he was here to arrest you, he came to my door looking for you…after he'd been to your flat?" She looked at him in the way she did when Draco knew there was no use lying to her. She had a way of getting the truth out of someone that was far more frightening than being _force fed_ Veritaserum.

He tried anyway. "Well, perhaps there were forms I needed to sign. I did just sort of simply walk out."

Her foot began to tap and her hands curled tight around her upper arms. "Try again."

"Fine," Draco said, throwing his hands up in the air. "We had a thing."

Her brows rose and Pansy lowered her hands to her lap in a move that eerily reminded him of Dolores Umbridge. "You had…a _thing._ " She pursed her lips. "Define… _thing._ "

Draco rolled his eyes. "We got together a few times. Satisfied? Or do you need all the sordid details? Whose prick is bigger? Does he like a little teeth when I blow him?"

"Oh don't pull that shite with me, Draco Malfoy. I know every single one of your secrets. Well apparently excluding that one. But I remember the ones you'd rather I forget. And the man standing at my door was **not** here because of some _thing_ you had. Past tense."

Draco paced around the room. "It was nothing. We fucked."

"How many times?" she asked far too calmly for Draco's liking. "Once? Twice? A dozen times? Because darling, I know you. More than a handful of times is pretty much a commitment to you, whether you admit it or not."

"It wasn't a commitment; we did fuck several times, but it's over."

"Mmm-hmmm," she murmured. "And when did it end, exactly, because you might want to let Potter know it's over. I'd be willing to say he isn't aware of that little fact."

"It wasn't anything," he repeated, then paused for a second. "Not for either of us," he finally added quickly.

"Draco." Pansy's voice held that tone he hated. Somewhere between weariness and disbelief. "Even I might have bought that if I'd not seen Potter with my own eyes a few hours ago. However, let's start with how you ended up in the Ministry and then you can tell me how long you and Potter have been involved in this _thing_."

Draco sighed and leaned against the mantel, suddenly as weary as if he'd not slept at all. "I'm not sure where to begin. It's still a bit jumbled in my head, but I do know that I'm going to need a very large drink to go through all of this tonight." He headed for the bar tucked into the corner. "So, I'll check your alcohol while you go find something for us to nosh on."

Pansy stood. "You're not wiggling out of this by pretending to get drunk, Draco Malfoy," she said as she left the room.

He shook his head and walked behind the bar to make them both a large gin and tonic. When they were mixed, he carried them to the coffee table and set them on the coasters that were always present.

Pansy came back in a few minutes later with a platter filled with crackers, fruits, nuts, cheeses and some sort of sausage. She smiled when Draco's stomach growled, even though he'd eaten a few hours before.

She waited while he nibbled on some cheese and a few grapes, then sat back in her chair, steepled her fingers and turned her attention onto Draco until he looked up at her.

"Now would be a good time to start," she said pointedly.

Draco took another sip of his drink, then carefully set it back on its coaster. "First the Ministry fiasco and then Potter. And please let me get it all out, then you can ask me questions." He held his hand up to stop her protest and repeated. "First the Ministry, then Potter and questions later."

Pansy looked annoyed but took a sip of her drink and sat back to listen, her legs pulled up and her feet tucked beneath a pillow.

Draco went through the entire story from the moment they woke him, his experiences in interrogation, including being threatened with Veritaserum. He pushed up and began to pace around the room, waving his arms in the air while he spoke. When he got to the part where Harry had shown up, she remained silent, simply raising an eyebrow.

"Well he came bursting in, in true Potter _I'm here to save the day_ fashion," Draco said. "He yelled at the Aurors and sent them away. Then he, oh I don't know, sort of half-arsed apologised to me, although I have no idea why he felt the need. He wasn't one of the numpties that took me in or trashed my home. He told me to go and that he'd figure out what was going on." He shrugged and turned back to Pansy.

"So?" she said.

"So, that's everything I know."

She pursed her lips. "Then we still don't know any more than when you popped in unannounced."

Draco sighed. "I've apologised already for that faux pas; can we move on?"

"Of course," she said with a sudden grin. "But be advised I will throw it out there when I can. It's a bit fun to know even you, who was raised by the manners czar, is capable of an etiquette blunder." She continued over his protest. "However, putting that aside, it's well and good that Saint Potter is _on the job_ , darling, but you need to find out what the hell they were all about because you need to hire a solicitor, now. And Daddy will pay for it if you can't."

"I am not taking a handout from Philip Parkinson; I can afford my own solicitor. I have a successful business, you know. I'm not destitute."

"Oh stop being an enormous drama queen. That role is already being played by Harry Potter in this little production." She went over to the window, where Draco had ended up during his little pacing tirade. Putting a hand gently on his arm, she looked straight into his eyes. "So…this _thing_?"

♥ ♥ ♥

Harry stalked away from Pansy's door, irritation making his nerves hum. He was pretty damn sure Draco was inside. In fact, he'd have bet his life on it, since he wasn't at his flat. Pansy's was the only other place he'd go. He was so frustrated, he turned on the spot and Apparated home.

When he landed in his living room Harry looked around, a bit surprised to find himself there. He hadn't made the conscious choice to go there, which showed exactly how distracted he was; he knew not to Apparate when he didn't have his wits about him. He was just so damn frustrated!

"Well fuck," he said to the empty room, hands on his hips. "It'll be a fuck-ton of paperwork to explain this cock-up tomorrow." But frankly, he thought, he really couldn't be arsed about the bloody paperwork. He needed to talk to Draco, needed to make sure he was alright. And they needed to start sorting this whole fucking mess out.

The more he'd talked to Holden and Beecham, the less he felt he knew. They hadn't told him dick except they were given an order to bring Draco Malfoy into holding and to question him about his job. The annoying part was they couldn't, or wouldn't, tell Harry who had given the order. Harry was the bloody Deputy Head Auror; there were only two people above him; Gawain Robards, the Head Auror, and Kingsley, Minister for Magic. And he'd bet every Galleon he had neither one of them had given that order.

Harry had immediately suspended Holden and Beecham, without pay, for two weeks and was still certain that whether or not Draco brought charges against the Ministry – which he absolutely should – they would be out of jobs. Not that he cared. At the moment all he could think about was Draco and how horrible he'd looked.

Nothing to be done for that tonight though, he decided. Not with Draco's resident sentinel in stiletto's keeping guard at the door. But tomorrow, Pansy Parkinson be damned, he was going to talk to Draco. On his way up the stairs to change before he scrounged something up to eat, he had a thought. After supper, he'd talk to Hermione. Better yet he decided to call her and meet for supper. As Undersecretary to the Minister, if she couldn't get information… there was none to be found.

_Okay,_ he thought. _He'd figure out what the fuck was going on and he'd find out exactly what Draco had to do with it all._

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco walked over and sat on Pansy's couch, staring into the fire. He watched the flames dance, rubbing his cold hands together.

"If you expect me to help you," Pansy said softly, "then you have to tell me the truth, Draco. All of it."

He gave her a disparaging look. "All of it? Like who tops and who bottoms?"

"That's crass, even for you. Besides, I already know your preferred position, darling." She gave him a withering glare. "That wasn't what I was saying, and you know it."

Draco sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I know. Sorry. It's just…difficult to remember how it all happened. I've kept it to myself for so long." He took a sip of his drink, then hid a small smile behind his glass.

_Draco stood and watched as his house was emptied by Aurors and Curse Breakers. He wanted to scream and grab things out of their grimy hands. Instead, he watched in stoic silence as the family china was roughly packed into boxes, along with crystal goblets engraved with the Malfoy crest. He watched his childhood packed up by men who gave the treasured pieces no more thought than they would a tin of beans as they carried away his life. He couldn't even consider going upstairs to watch them paw through his mother's elegant robes. He wondered if all of her jewellery would make it onto the inventory sheets or if some of the pieces would be presented as gifts to wives and girlfriends. To add insult to injury, even though it had not been part of his sentence, one of the Aurors demanded his wand and laughed as Draco watched him break it in two. It wasn't his hawthorn wand – he imagined it was a small blessing that Potter never returned it – but it still hurt like a bitch to see the two pieces of the wand he'd grown used to using on the floor._

_When they finished, Draco stood in the middle of the grand foyer. Its emptiness mocked him. A small part of him wished he'd called Pansy or Blaise to be with him, but the humiliation of it all was more than he could bear. He walked into his mother's small reading parlour and tried to imagine her sitting in the window seat. He missed her more now than ever. When she had been killed by a crazed war survivor in Diagon Alley, he was certain he'd never felt so lost. But now, for the first time since the war ended, sitting on the floor in front of the empty hearth, Draco was glad she was not there to suffer this mortification of having everything stripped away from them. His father, on the other hand, he hoped was rotting in hell where he belonged._

_Draco spent the next two weeks wandering around the empty manor, trying to remember the good times and forget the times that led him to his current situation. He ate through the tins they'd left behind, even things he'd have never touched before, and slept curled up in window seats. He had no money and not even an earring of his mothers to try to sell for some Galleons, even though there was no way he would attempt Diagon Alley for fear he'd meet the same fate as his mother. But as the days dragged on, he considered that it might be his best option. He could sneak into the Leaky and trail behind someone entering Diagon; he couldn't open the brick wall himself without a wand. And in the post war world, while most wizards felt safe when they'd got that far, Draco couldn't say the same._

_He'd nearly managed to find his courage to go there when he felt a shift in the wards. Now that his father was dead, the wards no longer prohibited intruders and Draco hadn't felt the need to strengthen them. After all, who in his right mind would come to the Manor? There was certainly nothing left to steal. If they came to kill Draco, he might not have minded much._

_Nonetheless, he moved cautiously to the front door and waited. Finally, there was a soft knock that echoed around the empty foyer, bouncing from the marble floor up into the ceiling three stories above. Draco closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for the curse that was no doubt about to be cast as he pulled open the massive oak door. Instead, he found himself face to face with the Saviour himself, Harry Potter._

_Draco stared at him for a long moment, unable to even summon righteous indignation._

_"If you've come to gloat, Potter," Draco said tiredly, "there's no need. I'm perfectly aware of 'how the mighty have fallen'."_

_Harry blinked, then shook his head. "That's not at all why I'm here."_

_"Right."_

_"No, really," Harry said earnestly. "If you'll let me come in, I'd like to talk to you."_

_Draco gave a laugh that sounded somewhat insane, even to him. Madness did seem to run in the family; look at mad Auntie Bellatrix. "Come in? What, so I can serve you non-existent tea in pretend cups with invisible finger sandwiches?" He shook his head, abruptly so tired he could hardly move. "Go away, Potter."_

_He was going to slam the door, but it was heavy and Harry was too fast. He slipped inside right before it slammed shut._

_Harry looked around the barren foyer and into the empty room to the left. "Holy shit," he said almost under his breath. "What the fuck? I knew they were told to seize your belongings, but they didn't even leave a chair or anything?"_

_Draco laughed again. "Why the fuck would they? I'm sure they were pissing in their pants with excitement over being able to take it all. The Ministry must be doing dances over seizing the Malfoy vaults."_

_Harry shook his head. "It's not right what they did. You were innocent and your mother… I'm really sorry about what happened to her. She risked everything to make sure you were safe." His face became hard and his voice was stern. "They should have protected her."_

_Draco turned. It hurt like fuck to think about his mother lying on the cobblestones in the middle of Diagon Alley with no one coming to help her. "Well they didn't," he said stiffly. He turned around and pointed to the door. "And now you've had your little look-see, so toddle off back to where you're lauded as a hero. Personally, I don't have time for that sort of twaddle."_

_Harry sighed. "Can you just give me a few minutes of your time?"_

_Draco shifted and sat down on the floor, right where he'd been standing. "Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm as he made an expansive gesture with his arm. He leaned back on his hands, looking at Harry with as much interest as he could manage. Which wasn't much._

_Harry rolled his eyes, but sat on the floor across from Draco. He pulled an envelope from inside his jacket pocket and held it out to Draco._

_"What's this rubbish?" Draco asked._

_"It's far from rubbish," Harry said. "It's for you."_

_Draco took the envelope and looked at it, then turned it over. He recognised the Gringotts seal and paused. "What are you playing at, Potter?"_

_"Merlin's balls," Harry groaned, "will you just open the damned thing!"_

_Draco glared, but slid his thumb under the flap and broke the wax seal. He pulled out some papers, unfolded them, scanning them quickly. "No," he said, throwing all the parchments back at Harry. "I am **not** taking a fucking handout from you, Potter. I'll starve to death first. Now get the fuck out of my house!"_

_Harry gathered the papers up, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving until you listen to me."_

_Draco recognised Harry's mulish expression; he'd seen it often enough at Hogwarts. "Fine, sit here until moss grows on your arse, I don't much care." He shifted as if to stand._

_Harry reached out and clasped a hand on Draco's arm. "Just listen."_

_Draco stared at Harry's hand on his arm. Gods, the times he'd fantasised about Potter touching him, even after that horrific encounter in the men's loo. It was pathetic, and it made him angry. "If you wish to keep your limb," his tone dry as dust, "I suggest you remove your hand now."_

_Harry glared back, but lifted his hand. "You don't scare me, Malfoy. I'm just asking you to hear me out. Then I'll leave."_

_Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine. But make it short and to the point."_

_Harry took a deep breath. "I want you to have the Black vaults that Sirius left to me." He raised a hand to shut down Draco's protests. "I don't need the money and it will help you move on with your life."_

_"Of course, Saint Potter doesn't need the money," Draco muttered, not quite under his breath._

_Harry ignored him and continued. "It's not my fault that my dad was good with money, you tosspot. I didn't know about him, or the money until I was eleven fucking years old. Sirius apparently didn't know that my parents left me quite well off, and since I didn't even know I was a wizard until I got my Hogwarts letter, the money kept earning interest. You must know Sirius had quarrelled with his family; it's the only reason it went to me."_

_Draco remembered his mother saying she was sorry Sirius fell out with Walburga. She'd liked her cousin, and wished Draco could've met him, even if he had ended up on the 'wrong side'. His father had been quite outspoken that he didn't feel the same._

_Potter went on. "It's only right that you have the money in the Black vaults. Your Mum was a Black. No doubt she'd— well, no doubt she should have inherited it. "_

_Draco shook his head. Even if he was right, Draco would starve to death before he took a thing from Potter. "No. Now you said what you came to say. It's time for you to leave."_

_He stood and went to the door and pulled it open. "I'd say it's been a pleasure, but that would be a lie. And don't think leaving that envelope on the floor will make me accept your charity. Pick it up and get out, Potter."_

_Harry stood, holding the papers and walked to the door. "This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll be back."_

_Draco slammed the door behind him and then crumpled to the floor. He wanted to cry. He'd caught a glimpse of the bottom line on the Black accounts. That money would have been more than enough to get out of the hell that was currently his life. He curled in a ball against the wall and tried to ignore the emptiness he felt in his stomach…and his heart._

_He woke a few hours later, cold and achy from sleeping on the marble floor. Draco stood slowly and wandered through the rooms, trying to decide which one felt warmer. His wandering took him into the kitchens, where he decided to look in the cabinets one more time. Maybe there was a biscuit crumb or an old slice of cheese he'd missed before. He hoisted himself up onto the counter, legs swinging, and thought back to all the times he'd sneak down into the kitchens as a boy. With a sharp command, the food of his choice would appear on the counter in front of him. He'd truly been a little shite back then and couldn't help but wonder how different things would be now if he fought harder against the Ministry. Draco closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the cabinet, suddenly so very weary._

_Unexpectedly, he heard his mother's voice, as if she were standing there before him in the room. "Don't waste your time with the 'what if's' Draco. Remember what I told you every night that year when we didn't know if we'd see the sun rise again. We will survive. We did, and you will also survive this."_

_Draco felt gooseflesh rise on the back of his neck, as if someone had touched him there, stroked the soft hair at his nape, just as she had for nearly his entire life. He smiled wanly, wishing she was still there so much he ached. But she wasn't. Draco was on his own and he'd just told what might be his only chance to basically go fuck himself._

Pansy's chuckle pulled him back into the present. "Not like that was the first time you'd ever told Potter to _pound sand_."

"True," Draco laughed. "And it wouldn't be the last time either."

"So," Pansy asked, "how'd he convince you to take the money?" She laughed at Draco's glare. "Oh please, darling, even I'm not foolish enough to think Potter gave up after one try. Not to mention, you'd be dead if you'd not accepted his help."

"You really are a bitch," Draco said tersely. "Now I either tell this my way or we're done. Your choice."

She stuck her tongue out at Draco. "Oh please, kind sir, do carry on."

He flipped her off, but continued.

_Draco went to sleep hungry again. When he woke, it was cold and raining. "Perfect," he told himself. "Even the weather matches my mood."_

_He wasn't certain what led him to open the front door, but right outside was a bag with a note on it. 'Don't be a prat.' It said. 'Just because you're stubborn, there's no need for you to starve. HP'_

_Draco peeked inside the bag and sniffed. His mouth began to water when he smelled a bacon butty. He picked up the bag and stepped back inside. Along with several bacon butties, the bag held a very large takeaway container of soup, a loaf of bread and an entire pat of butter. His stomach grumbled and Draco decided there were worse things than eating food that Harry Potter had left on his doorstep._

_Breaking off a chunk of bread, Draco unwrapped the butter and slid the bread across the top. He didn't give a damn about manners at that moment. He knew his mother would understand. Needs must, after all, Draco thought as he took a bite and sighed._

_He really wanted to eat the entire loaf of bread, slathered in butter. Gods how he loved butter. But Draco was nothing if not pragmatic. After he finished the chunk he'd torn off, he carefully wrapped the remaining bread and butter to save for later._

_That night, with a full stomach, he'd expected he would sleep better. Unfortunately his sleep was filled with dreams where he was chasing something and just as he reached out for it (he still had no clue what he'd been chasing), it vanished from sight. So waking up to someone knocking on his door did nothing to improve his mood._

_Draco knew even before he opened the door Potter would be on the other side. The man was nothing if not tenacious._

_"Go away, Potter," Draco grumbled, trying to ignore the steaming takeaway cups in Potter's hands._

_"Your mouth says leave, Draco," Harry smiled. "But your eyes say 'please give me that cup of warmth'."_

_Draco reflexively closed his eyes. "You're a buffoon, Potter. My eyes say no such thing to you." He felt something warm being pressed into his hand and instinctively wrapped his fingers around the cup. His eyes popped open when the warmth from the cup immediately spread throughout his body, causing him to shiver._

_Harry just stood there smiling. "I decided even if you're going to be a stubborn fool, you don't need to be a hungry and cold, stubborn fool."_

_"Fine, you've done your saintly deed for the day," Draco scoffed, "now leave."_

_Harry sighed. "Honestly, Draco…"_

_"And since when do you call me Draco?" He shook his head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. Just stop it. And go, turn around and walk out the door. Thank you for the warm meals, and the cup of hot tea. But I am not your charity case, Potter."_

_Harry didn't move._

_"Oh for Merlin's sake. If you won't leave then I will. See yourself out, Potter, I don't have time for your childishness."_

_Harry called after him. "Right, because you're too damn busy wallowing in self-pity to actually see a way out of this crappy situation."_

_To Draco's surprise, he heard the door slam a moment later. He looked down at the cup of tea, prepared exactly how he liked it, and tried not to feel foolish._

Draco stopped and took a sip of his drink. He stood and walked back to Pansy's window. "He didn't come back for a week. Every day I looked outside the front door, hoping he had left something to eat or a cup of tea. Even being careful I'd finished everything from before."

Pansy spoke softly. "Why didn't you come to me, Draco? You know I would have taken you in or put you up in a pied-à-terre of Daddy's."

"You know why."

"Pride is a useless thing when you've got nothing," Pansy told him.

Draco shook his head. "When you've got nothing tangible, all you have left that's worth a tinker's damn is your pride."

♥ ♥ ♥

"See here's the thing," Harry said around a mouthful of pad thai, pointing with his chopsticks. "I can't find a damn thing about an order to go to Malfoy's and detain him or to toss his place."

Hermione gently pushed Harry's chopsticks towards the table. "I'd prefer not to be wearing your dinner tonight, thanks," she said with a smile. "But there has to be something, somewhere." She winced a bit. "You know your office isn't exactly neat and tidy, Harry. It could be stuck in the wrong file or it might have already been binned."

Harry wanted to argue with her, but knew she was right. "Okay, point. But still, those two numpties should have had a copy of it in their file. I've been through what they consider a case file at least five times and there's not a damn thing that resembles an arrest order."

Hermione chewed thoughtfully. "You know, Harry, you're going to have to go talk to Robards about what Beecham and Holden have done. In fact, I'm fairly certain he already knows and is wondering why his Deputy Head Auror hasn't been in to see him yet."

It was Harry's turn to wince. "I know. I was hoping I'd find something by the end of shift, so I wouldn't sound like a complete buffoon when I talk to him."

"You were out of contact on a stake-out when it all went down. How can that possibly reflect poorly on you?"

"Hermione, I'm responsible for them. For what they do. I'm responsible for making sure they understand procedure and protocol."

"Still, you can't be held accountable if you weren't even in the sodding country! What, are you a seer now on top of being the _Chosen One_?" Hermione sighed in apparent exasperation.

Harry sat back in his chair. "Well that's me told, isn't it?"

Hermione wadded up her napkin and tossed it at Harry. It bounced off his shoulder. "Oh, shut it. I wasn't about to listen to you whinge on and on about how this is your fault. Just because you and Draco have a…a…oh I don't even know what to call it! But having a 'relationship'," she said using air quotes for emphasis, "doesn't make everything that happens to him your responsibility."

"My 'relationship'," he mimicked her air quotes, "has nothing to do with it being my responsibility. My being Deputy Head Auror, however, does."

"Fine, we can debate semantics all night," she used her chopsticks to pick up a prawn from her plate, "or you can tell me what it is you want me to do."

Harry felt colour rise in his cheeks. "I can't have dinner with my best friend, while her husband is gone for a few days? Maybe I just wanted to see how you were faring all alone."

"You're many things, Harry Potter," Hermione smiled. "But you're a terrible liar. So, spill or there will be no mango sticky rice for you."

"Harsh," he replied, shaking his head. "Okay, I'd like you to put out a few feelers. See if you can suss out anything about what prompted this _raid_ on Draco. You hear things as the Undersecretary that don't filter down to me."

Exasperation thick in her tone, Hermione sighed. "Harry, even I don't hear everything. And much of what I hear is _need to know_."

"Perfect. I need to know," Harry replied cheekily. At her glare he grimaced. "Please?"

"You are impossible, you know that, right?"

"I know that when Malfoy gets his wits about him, there's going to be a fucking huge law suit brought against the Auror department. And rightfully so." He grimaced. "And no matter what my relationship with him is, I have to be prepared for that."

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco took a moment to compose himself, staring out the window, memories swirling in his head. "The thing is, Pans," he said firmly, "I had to try to figure things out on my own. All my life someone told me what to do. Mostly my father, but Severus too. Mother was the only one who let me…no, made me think for myself."

He turned to look at her. "And then she was gone. Everything was gone and there was no one to turn to. I couldn't turn to my friends— it was all too humiliating. At least then it was. So yes, my pride was all I had left and I wasn't going to give that up for anyone."

He went back to the couch and sat, popping a grape in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "It's funny," he said with a small smile, "how little you appreciate things like food, until you don't even have a crumb to gnaw on."

_A week passed and Draco saw nothing of Potter or any more food. The hungrier he became, the more Potter popped into his thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd been a fool. The money Potter was offering belonged in the Black family, and wasn't he a Black? Draco paced, shaking his head. It didn't matter anyway; he'd told Potter to leave and that was that. Wretched time for the arsehole to finally start listening to him._

_He was so cold and hungry and so incredibly tired of it all. Maybe the best thing to do was go to sleep. He went upstairs to his mother's dressing room and sat on the floor by the wall. If he tried very hard, he could still smell her perfume lingering in the air. Lying down he curled into a ball, thinking maybe things wouldn't seem so bad if he fell asleep. His last thought was if he were lucky, he'd not wake up and he could be with his mother once again._

♥ ♥ ♥

_It was late in the afternoon when Harry stood outside the Manor doors, half expecting Draco to come out and tell him to leave. He'd been out on training manoeuvres for the past week and was dead tired, but he wanted to bring Draco some more food, figuring what he had left had to be gone. So he'd cleaned up at his flat and then popped over to the Leaky for some bread and stew. And butter, of course. He smiled to himself; Draco did love butter. The amount he'd eaten at Hogwarts had been legend. The bag he held was warm and a faint whiff of steam rose from the sides of it._

_He lifted the heavy iron knocker, a snake of course, and let it drop with a resounding bang. He looked away from the snake, thankful he'd lost his ability to talk to them when Voldemort died. That was one magical gift he was glad to be rid of. When the loud knock failed to get any result, Harry turned the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, and went inside. Cold from all the marble seemed to hang in the air…along with silence._

_"Draco?" Harry called out. "You didn't answer so I came on in. I have some stew." Harry felt a sense of unease and gooseflesh rose on his arms and tingled down his back. He set the bag on the floor and began to search the rooms, calling out for Draco as he went along._

_When he was fairly certain Draco wasn't on the main floor, he looked at the marble staircase. One sweeping arch led upstairs and behind it was a smaller passage that led down. Harry took a chance and bounded up the stairs, two at a time._

_"Draco!" he called over and over. "Where are you?" Now the unease had grown into full-blown panic. What if someone had come while he'd been away and done something awful to Draco, like they had his mother?_

_His mother! It hit Harry like a Bludger between the eyes. He rushed down the corridor, passing room after room with dark wall coverings. Near the end of the hall, he looked into a room that was the colour of pale violets. There was a door in the far wall that seemed to lead into a sitting room, and there was another room beyond that. Sensing these must be Narcissa Malfoy's rooms, Harry stopped and called out, "Draco? Are you in here?"_

_Moving slowly, in case Draco was asleep, Harry went inside. He saw the open doors of what might have been a dressing room before it had been torn apart. He looked inside, his heart dropping when he didn't see Draco. He turned to leave when a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Narcissa Malfoy said 'please don't give up on him'. Harry blinked, and then went in and looked behind the door to the inner wardrobe. Curled against the door in a small ball was Draco. And he was very, very pale and very still._

_Harry dropped to his knees, trying to ignore the bile that rose into his throat. He reached out a shaking hand and felt the pulse point in Draco's neck, then gave an explosive sigh when he felt a pulse beating faintly under his fingertips. Draco's skin was nearly translucent it was so cold, but he was alive._

_"Draco," Harry said softly. "Draco, it's me. It's Harry. I…I have soup and bread with butter. Come on, Draco, wake up. I brought an entire pat of butter for you." His voice broke a bit. "I know how much you like butter."_

_He needed to get Draco warm. They'd been taught about hypothermia in Auror training and Harry was pretty damn sure Draco was one notch away from it. Sliding his arms under the lithe body, he pushed up onto wobbly legs. Draco was far too light for someone of his height, but he was still a load to stand up with._

_Harry took a deep breath and concentrated. With an audible 'pop', they Apparated out of the Manor._

_They landed in Harry's living room and Harry winced as his knees nearly buckled. He turned and laid Draco on his couch, before he ending up dropping him on the floor. He pulled a blanket Molly had knitted him from the back of the couch and gently laid it over Draco then turned towards the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, the logs burst into flames, and the rapidly growing fire danced in the hearth. Harry pulled a footstool next to the couch and sat near Draco's head. Every few minutes, he softly called out Draco's name. When Draco's hand slid from under the blanket, Harry took it in his. He was still so cold. Cushioning the freezing hand between his, Harry held on. They sat together as the shadows in the room grew long and the only light was from the fireplace. Harry yawned as he shifted, and then after arguing with himself that it really wasn't a great idea, he laid his head on Draco's chest. He fell asleep listening to the soft beating of Draco's heart._

♥ ♥ ♥

_Draco knew he was dreaming…or maybe, he thought, he was dead. What he did know is that he was no longer chilled to the bone, and the scent of Jasmine and orange blossoms had become a woodsy, spicy scent he often associated with Potter. He wanted to open his eyes, but was afraid if he did the warmth would be gone. Everything would be gone. Draco tried to roll to his side, but realised there was a heavy weight on his chest, pinning him to whatever he was lying on. His eyes shot open wide and he was shocked to see black hair in front of his face. Lots of thick, dense dark hair._

_He tried to yell at Potter to get off, but an unmanly "Erppp…" squeaked out instead._

_Thankfully, Potter's head shot up and he stared at Draco. "You're awake," Harry said._

_Draco coughed and finally found his voice. "Well spotted, Potter."_

_"I was afraid you weren't going to wake up," Harry said softly as he stood._

_"Afraid I wouldn't or hoping I wouldn't," Draco shot back._

_"Don't," Harry said sternly, turning to glare at Draco. "Just... don't. I'll go find something for you to eat. Then we need to talk."_

_Draco watched him leave the room. Looking around he decided Harry must have brought him to his own place. Did the man's self-sacrificing know no bounds? Well he wasn't going to be Harry Potter's 'pity-project-of-the-month'. He tried to sit up, but his effort was futile. No food for several days had left him as weak as a baby Kneazle. Fine, he thought, he'd eat something and then he'd leave. Might as well get a free meal out of Potter before he left. Just thinking it made him feel like a complete and utter shite._

_Draco was still arguing with himself when Harry came back into the room with a steaming mug that smelled like heaven._

_"Molly sent some chicken soup over that just needed to be heated up. I had some stew from the Leaky when I came over yesterday. But I think it's still on the floor by your front door. " He paused while he handed Draco the mug. "Be careful, it's pretty warm."_

_"I'm certain I can still handle a hot vessel of soup. You needn't hover, Potter." He managed with an unmanly amount of effort to sit up, and Draco leaned into the corner of the couch and sipped cautiously at the broth. It tasted as good as it smelled. "I'll just drink this and be out of your way." Not that he wanted to go. He wanted to lie back on the comfortable sofa, in the warm room and sleep for several more hours. Or maybe days._

_"Don't be an arse, Draco," Harry said tersely. "You don't need to run off. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and let someone help you. And if you try to walk out of here, I swear to God I'll hex you unconscious again and take you right to St. Mungo's."_

_"Oh bugger off, Potter. I don't need your help."_

_Harry pursed his lips and studied him. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, I'm your only hope of surviving. You either suck it up and accept my offer of money that is rightfully yours or you go back to the Manor and wallow in self-pity until you starve or freeze to death. You were just this side of hypothermia when I found you yesterday. So starve, or freeze. Neither of which are pleasant prospects in my mind."_

_The mug in Draco's hand shook slightly until he rested it on his knee. Outside of Severus, no one had ever spoken to him that way and he was dumbfounded that Potter had done so. And apparently Potter wasn't done yet._

_"My cards are on the table, Draco. I'm offering you a future. You can take it or not. The choice is yours. But I've spent the last week training in mud and rain and have had bullshit up to my ears. So I'm going to bed. You can tell me your decision in the morning. I'm too knackered to argue anymore tonight."_

_Draco watched as Harry turned and walked down a short hall. A moment later he heard a door snick closed._

Pansy leaned back in her chair and smirked. "Well, well, well. Who knew Potter actually had the balls?"

Draco gave her a side-eye glance. "I categorically refuse to discuss his balls. Now or in the future."

Pansy pouted. "Spoil-sport." She paused. "So he convinced you?"

"I found that the idea of freezing to death actually held very little appeal. Not to mention, when he said the money was rightfully mine, he wasn't wrong was he?"

"You know your mother would have wanted you to take the Black money, Draco," Pansy said softly.

"Oh, she made that abundantly clear that night. I won't say I dreamt about her but in the morning, I could hear her as clearly as if she stood next to me. She told me I had too much life left to live, if I'd only let myself."

_Draco tossed and turned on the reasonably comfortable couch. It was so nice to be warm and have a belly full of food, but he was still unsettled. Potter's words echoed through his head like a pounding drum. As the room began to glow with the light of a new day, Draco sat on the edge of the couch. He knew that Potter, no matter what he said the night before, would expect an answer today. No one, not even St Potter would be patient forever._

_Maybe it was time to show Potter he was willing to change. When his stomach growled, Draco decided he'd make breakfast for them. After all, how hard could tea and toast be? He'd managed it at the Manor after the war…before everything went pear-shaped. No time to think about that. Hearing his mother's voice so clearly in the early morning hours had been chilling enough. And when she basically told him to stop being a daft idiot and accept help, well, Draco always had listened to his mother._

_Once in the kitchen, Draco began to quietly look into the cupboards until he found a tin with some teabags. 'Figured the plebian would use bags and not loose tea like a proper wizard,' Draco thought. Placing one in each of the mugs he'd found, Draco filled the kettle with water and set it on the hob, turning the knob to light the burner. Once that was settled, he found a loaf of bread in the breadbox and took out several slices. He'd seen a toaster in a magazine advert before. If he recalled, the bread went in the open spots in the top and then 'voila'… toast._

_Potter's kettle didn't whistle, but Draco saw steam coming from the spout, so he shut the flame off and poured the hot water over the bags. He looked at the toaster. The bread was still standing in the slots…not toasted. Draco moved closer, looking at the knobs and buttons. He tried turning them, pushing them, he even poked at them with his finger – but the bread didn't move or toast. Merlin, this was so much simpler with magic but cooking spells had never been his strong point, even with a wand. Without, he was basically helpless._

_"Toast, you bloody bastard," Draco muttered, flicking at the bread. He heard a noise that sounded very much like a muffled snicker, and he turned to see Potter standing in the doorway, attempting to hold back a laugh._

_"I'm sure there's a very good reason you're abusing my bread," Potter said, his voice sounding strained._

_Draco's mouth dropped open and a few hundred filthy thoughts raced through his brain. He blinked and then shook his head. "I'm not abusing it. Your toasty thing is defective. I've tried all the buttons, twisted all the knobs and the bread is not toasting."_

_Harry stepped over and pressed a lever down until it clicked. The bread dropped and Draco felt heat coming from the machine. A few minutes later, two slices of very dark toast popped up._

_Draco stepped back. "See! It is defective. That bread tried to jump out when it was overcooked. Even the bread knew it was too dark."_

_"And I do appreciate that," Harry responded softly, and the deep, kind tenor of his voice sent a chill down Draco's spine. Harry didn't say anything, just adjusted one of the knobs, slid two more slices into the machine and pressed the lever down. This time when the bread came out, it was a perfect golden brown. Draco sat at the table, feeling defeated. "I just wanted to do something nice," he muttered under his breath._

_Harry brought the toast, on two plates, to the table. He set the very dark slices in front of his place and gave the others to Draco._

_They ate and drank their tea in silence. When Draco finished his last slice of toast, he mustered up all his courage and looked at Potter._

_"After my first decent night's sleep in longer than I want to admit, I've slept on it, Potter, and I've decided, much to my surprise, that you make sense."_

_"Decent?" Harry said with a bit of frustration in his voice. "I'd think that my couch was more than decent compared to sleeping on the floor."_

_"Don't get your wand in a knot," Draco sighed. "Your couch is quite comfortable, but I find no matter where I am when I have a lot on my mind, I don't sleep that well."_

_"Oh," Harry said, looking at his plate. "Sorry."_

_Draco waved a hand. "What I'm trying to say is that you're right. The Black vaults technically are mine."_

_"I'm right? Bet that hurt to admit." Harry smirked._

_"It was most painful, but moving on," Draco continued with a roll of his eyes, "your offer to put them in my name is very generous, but the minute you put my name on those vaults, the Ministry will seize them."_

_"Not if they don't know about the transfer," Harry said smugly._

_"You may be the all-powerful vanquisher of Dark Lords, Potter, but not even you can circumvent the security and record keeping of Gringotts."_

_Harry shrugged. "No, but I know people who can and will."_

_Draco raised an eyebrow. "Explain."_

_"Well it's a bit complicated and I'm not even sure I understand all the legalities, but basically I 'gift' the vaults to D. Black…"_

_Draco interrupted. "I'm not changing my name! The Malfoy name may be shite right now, but one day I'd like to hope it won't be!"_

_"No one's suggesting you do that. Just listen before you fly off your broom again." Harry took a sip of tea. "Like I said, I 'gift' the vaults to D. Black. Kingsley has put together papers that make him exist. You are made the…well, like executor of the vaults as D. Black. So technically - you're D. Black when it comes to the vaults. They belong to you, but as D. Black."_

_"That's the most convoluted idea I've ever heard," Draco scoffed. "It'll never work. The goblins are too smart to fall for that.""_

_Harry rolled his eyes. "I already admitted I don't fully understand how it all works, but Hermione…"_

_Draco interrupted with a snort. "I should have known Granger was involved."_

_"You should be happy she is. She's the one who did all the research on how to make this work. Anyway, I have the papers here if you want to sign them."_

_"In a rush to chuck me out the door?" When he saw the startlingly shattered look on Potter's face, Draco knew his attempt at levity had fallen flat._

_"What? No! I mean, I'd hoped you'd stay for a bit while things were sorted."_

_"Stay?" Draco's brows drew together. "Here?"_

_"Well, yeah. You can't go back and sleep on the floor at the Manor."_

_A libido Draco had feared long dead chose that moment to lift its head, watching as Potter rubbed his hands over thickly muscled thighs and trying not to wonder how those strong hands would feel rubbing over him. He looked around the fairly small flat. "Unless you've used quite a bit of magic on this place, it's a one bedroom flat. And while I appreciate that you brought me here to avoid my freezing to death, your couch isn't that comfortable."_

_Draco watched as a flush crept up Potter's neck from beneath his shirt, and couldn't help but wonder where it started. And then immediately wondered what in hell was wrong with him. Did it really only take a couple of decent meals and a night on his couch to remind him of how much he'd always wanted Potter? He'd first realised it during fifth year; now was a truly shitty time for him to remember._

Pansy laughed. "So that's how you two ended up sleeping together. Convenient. _Oh Potter, you only have one bed and your couch is so hard. Let me fulfil my wet dreams since I was fourteen and sleep in the same bed with you._

Draco tossed a throw pillow across the room at her. "Oh do shut up, you old cow. Even desperate, I wasn't that fucking crass." He waved his hand and cast a quick _Tempus_ and groaned. "It's nearly half one! No wonder I'm so knackered I could fall over."

Pansy stood and stretched. "I know, that was a short rest to recover from nearly three days in a holding cell. I'm sure you're exhausted. But I will hear the rest of this." She gave him a very direct look.

"I promise. But first thing tomorrow, will you come to my house with me?" He shuddered. "I'm not certain I can face it alone, but I really need to assess the damage and get things set to rights. Then I need to see my solicitor about getting some Aurors sacked."

Pansy nodded, then stepped close to Draco. In a surprisingly un-Pansy-like move, Draco found himself gathered into her arms. "Whatever you need, Draco, I'm with you. I wasn't there after…" her voice broke, "after Narcissa was killed and you lost everything. But I'm here now for whatever you need." She sniffled.

"Merlin's balls, woman," he said, affecting a snide tone that might allow both of them to reclaim their dignity, "these may not be my things but I'd appreciate your not getting snot all over them!" Draco gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "Now that's enough Hufflepuff for tonight."

Draco smiled, and for the first time in days, felt the muscles across his shoulders begin to relax. He'd held them tensed for so long they ached, but it wasn't a bad feeling. It was a relief. He just needed to find out what those idiot Aurors thought he had done. Had they found out about the vaults? Too tired to really consider it, he yawned as he climbed into bed and fell promptly asleep.

In the morning, Draco woke early. He had slept like the dead but once he was awake, he was wide awake. He lay quietly in the guest room bed, his arms over his head, staring at the ceiling as the pre-dawn, lavender light washed over the walls. His mind was filled with thoughts of Harry; now that he'd had some food and a good night's sleep, he knew he couldn't ignore what was so obvious; Pansy was right that Harry had no idea they were _over_ , because they weren't. They'd been together shortly before Harry had been sent out of town. Draco only did what Pansy accused him of; overreacting, and blaming Harry for what someone else had done. He'd known by Harry's reaction he didn't know about the raid on his home, but he'd been so tired and humiliated and filthy that when Pansy had asked, what he'd blurted out hadn't been the truth. Lovely, he thought wryly. Now he had to explain that to her. But lying there in the pale pre-dawn light, he knew _breaking up_ with Harry was the last thing he wanted to do. He just hoped the Gryffindor stubborn streak that had sent him in search of Draco at Pansy's was still present.

He and Pansy ate breakfast in near silence. Finally, Draco set his mug on the table and sighed. "I need to go to my place and see what can be salvaged. I had clients scheduled and they must be wondering why I wasn't there for their appointments and several upcoming appointments that need to be rescheduled."

"Then we should get moving." She waved Draco's protest away. "I told you last night I'm not going to let you do that by yourself! I'm perfectly capable of making a Floo call." She shook her head and her expression became serious. "Hello. This is Ms Parkinson, Mr Malfoy's personal assistant. He's very sorry that he was unavoidably detained at the time of your appointment. He'd like to reappoint and offer you a fifteen percent courtesy discount to make up for the inconvenience." She gave him a sassy look. "Does that work for you, _boss_?"

Draco laughed. "It certainly does and the discount will go a long way to soothing the undoubtedly pissy moods of those that I didn't show for, nice thought." He paused. "I'll need to borrow Floo powder. You'll understand when you see the place."

Pansy stepped to the closet and pulled out a jar labelled _Floo Powder_. "This is extra, you can keep it." Then she linked elbows with Draco and pulled him to the door. "I reserve the right to call in Mummy's house elves if needed. I'll pretend to be your assistant to get your clients rescheduled, but I refuse to ruin my clothing, even for you, Draco."

"Then I suggest you put in a call as soon as we get there. I'll admit to being in a bit of a daze when I was inside before, but I do recall it was a disaster."

"Oh," she gripped his bicep with hard fingers, just as he took hold of the jar of powder, "and don't think for one second that you're off the hook for the rest of the story about you and the boy wonder."

Draco gave her a dark look. "Neither of us are exactly 'boys'.

She gave him a flirtatious smile. "Darling, you'll always be a boy to me."

"And you're deluded." He shook his head and smiled, allowing her to cast the spell as they stepped into darkness.

♥ ♥ ♥

"Oh, Draco." Pansy stood in the middle of his sitting room, looking around in despair. "Your mother's settee…"

Draco stared at the little piece of furniture; its stuffing was pulled from ugly tears within the lovely hand-woven tapestry upholstery. She'd had it made after one that belonged to her mother, and he'd discovered it several months after the Manor had been razed. It had been in a little shop hidden just off Diagon, and he'd eaten beans and bread for a couple of weeks to be able to afford it. He wouldn't risk using the vaults to purchase it right away; not even for something that belonged to his mother. But beans and bread (and butter) he'd been willing to do. He sighed.

"I can repair it when I find my wand," he said, turning away from it to inspect the rest of the room. "You know my furniture skills are good."

"Fortunately," Pansy murmured. "The bastards didn't leave much in one piece, did they."

"No," he said faintly. "They didn't."

"Maybe it was better when your furniture was all taken from the Manor in one piece... rather than this devastation. At least then there was the possibility to find it again."

He studied the book cases with their shattered glass doors, and thought she might be right. He took a deep breath.

"All right, aside from the settee, what can we salvage?"

She turned in the middle of the room, her wand held down at her side. "I have no idea. Maybe I should call your clients first?"

"All right. I'll need my schedule book." That meant going downstairs, into the rooms where he saw patients, and to his lab. Dread grew in him as they went down the wooden staircase and to the doors that read, _D. Malfoy, Massage Therapist_ and under that _Holistic Healing_. It took Draco a moment for the fact he could read his name to register.

"Pans," he said breathlessly. "The doors. You don't suppose…?"

She all but ran to them, turning the knob and pushing them open. Draco let loose a soft cry when he saw that his waiting room was undisturbed.

"They didn't come in here," he said in disbelief. "Nothing is touched. They must have thought the kitchen was the only thing on this level."

"Well, thank Mordred for small favours, darling." She skipped across the room, pulling open the top drawer on the desk where she assumed he kept his papers. "Ah ha!" She emerged with his appointment book. "You don't suppose the lab—"

He pushed past her through the treatment rooms, (he had two), to the unassuming door beyond. It was still locked, and he raised his hand and pressed his palm to the middle of the door.

He thought he might weep. Not only were the shelves of potions undisturbed, but two he'd been working on for months were still in the cauldrons where he'd left them under a stasis charm. "All of that work," he said, his voice strained. "It's still here."

"Oh, Draco." Pansy wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking her head under his chin. He felt dampness on the front of the borrowed hoodie; apparently, she was going to weep for him. "Thank the Gods."

He swallowed heavily. "Yes. Thank anyone listening," he said, thinking of his mother.

After a few minutes, Draco found his spare set of keys in the desk, then moved to reset the wards on the lab. It wasn't easy, given his lack of ability with most wandless magic; thankfully Pansy sighed but handed over her wand. The Ebony wand fought him for a moment, but finally the wards were reset. Once the lab was safe, he locked up the office and they climbed the stairs back to the main floor, not feeling nearly as hopeless.

"We can deal with those calls later. Honestly, I didn't expect to find anything in one piece," he said as they headed upstairs.

Pansy nodded and followed Draco.

The hopeless feeling returned when they arrived in his bedroom.

His lovely, expensive bedding was trailing on the floor, his mattress sliced open until the springs showed. His bedside table was shattered, the stained-glass lamp he'd loved… destroyed. And his wardrobe—

Pansy snarled, "I _hate_ those fucking people."

Draco looked at his clothes, sharing the sentiment. He didn't believe there was a stitch of his clothing left undamaged.

"Here." She handed off her wand again which was a true indication of their friendship. She hadn't been comfortable with letting someone else use her wand since the war. "You're better at tailoring charms, and some of this can probably be saved."

Anything that had been damaged with magic could be restored, but the Aurors obviously knew that, and these fuckers had brought knives with them. He hadn't thought he could be any angrier; he'd been wrong.

"Oh, Draco," Pansy whimpered. Draco loved her, but he was rapidly growing sick of that phrase.

"Whatever it is, Pans; I can deal with it." He turned to her, and realised he was actually wrong. This was the verge of too much.

She was holding the two pieces of his hawthorn wand in her hand.

He took them from her, staring down at the smooth, well-worn pieces of hawthorn wood. Immediately he thought of Harry, and the amazing things he'd done during the war with this very wand, including disarming Voldemort. He rubbed his thumb along the grain of the wood.

"How could they do that?" Her eyes were shiny again. "They may be unmitigated bastards, but they're wizards, goddamn it. They _know_ what a wizard's wand—" Her voice broke.

"Sssh, Pans." He wrapped an arm around her petite shoulders and pulled her in. She was trembling, and anger warred with concern in his chest. He needed to change the focus, and he knew just what to say to do that. "You wanted to know how Harry and I got together, didn't you?"

She sniffed, giving him an annoyed look. "You are shamelessly manoeuvring me, aren't you?"

He gave her a slight smile. "Possibly. Still, you wanted to know."

She sighed. "My curiosity will be the death of me." One tweezed brow arched. "And 'Harry', is it?"

♥ ♥ ♥

While they slowly sorted out his bedroom and the bath, Draco tried to satisfy her rabid curiosity.

"Please don't tell me you jumped right into bed with Potter once you had a meal and a night's sleep," Pansy said, attempting a smile. "You're a Slytherin after all. I'd be seriously disappointed in you, even if he has become rather fit."

Draco shook his head, giving her a wry look. "No. It took several weeks to get the transfer of the vaults settled, after all."

"And of course, you couldn't abandon your knickers until the money was sorted."

He paused to give her a scathing look. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

She waved her hand as she looked sadly at the shattered bottle of Tom Ford's FUCKING FABULOUS she'd given him the Christmas before. "I'll try to control myself. Give me my wand."

He gave it to her before he thought better of it, then watched in consternation as she banished the glass and the overwhelming scent currently filling his loo, only to replace the slivers of dark glass with a brand new, unopened bottle of the pricey cologne. "Pansy," he protested.

"What?" She put the bottle back in the cabinet. "Harrods won't miss it. Now, vaults, goblins. I'm waiting with baited breath."

Draco sighed. "You're incorrigible. Anyway, Granger moved slowly, so as not to draw attention to any of the transactions. Goblins are smart, but not patient. I learned when you want to do something they might not approve of, do it slowly. They lose interest and pass it off to someone else." He shrugged. "It helped that no one saw the same name cross their path during the entire transaction."

Pansy picked up a dove grey cashmere sweater that had been left draped over his towel rail. "You might be able to make this into a muffler?" She turned it to look at all sides.

Draco huffed. "Har har. He snatched it from her hand and threw it toward the bin. Anyway, I stood my ground and in spite of _Harry's_ constant badgering, continued to sleep on the couch."

She looked delighted. "Oh, so _he_ was the one who wanted in _your_ pants. I feel so much better, knowing you didn't just throw yourself at him."

Draco glared. "He's not a complete hound. He wanted me to take the bed, and he was going to sleep on the couch."

She gave him great calf eyes. "How gallant."

"Oh, shut it." He took a moment to mourn a lovely silk button down he'd bought himself recently, then threw the poor tattered thing into the bin. "During the day, he'd go for training and I'd wander around his flat. I finally mastered the appliances in the kitchen and I found an old cookbook. I started teaching myself to cook."

She gave him a startled look that was part delight and part incredulity. "So that's how you learned to make that killer Bolognese sauce!"

"Guilty." Draco shuddered. "Probably not the best word choice at the moment."

"Probably," Pansy agreed. She picked up slivers of the soap he'd made for himself and shook her head. "They were thorough, I'll give them that."

"That's our men in red," Draco said sarcastically. "Protecting the masses, one bar of soap at a time."

Pansy smirked. "So…" she gave Draco a side-eye look, "when was it you finally decided Potter's joggers needed inspection from the inside and while he was wearing them?"

Draco turned, mouth agape. "How is it possible I am friends with you?"

Pansy fluttered her lashes at him. "Because I'm one of the few people on earth who has never put up with your bullshit."

Draco shrugged. "I suppose there is that. To continue… cooking doesn't take all day, so I also spent some time trying to decide what I'd do once I had money. There's nothing quite like having absolutely nothing to convince you to find a vocation that pays, even if your only previous experience is being decorative."

She gave him a stern look, even though her dark eyes glittered. "I won't stand here and allow you to horn in on my role, Draco Malfoy." He rolled his eyes at her, but his smirk was indulgent. "Besides, you and I both know you had more NEWT's than any of us once you were allowed to take them. You could do anything once your hateful cunt of a father was removed from the mix."

"Thank you," he said softly. Pansy knew better than anyone how Lucius had treated Draco, how he'd been forever disappointed in him no matter what Draco did. He sighed. "Anyway, I knew I couldn't suddenly show up around Diagon Alley with the ability to purchase whatever I wanted. That would have raised too much suspicion, and I needed something long term. Being an entitled diva might work for you, but I needed to make something of myself." He gave her a smile to make sure she knew he was teasing. "Be someone besides _the son of the Death Eater_."

Pansy rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. "I work."

Draco laughed and put another pile of shredded things by the bin. "Being on Daddy's payroll does not make you an employee, Pans." He held up his hands to stop her protest. "But it suits you. If my life hadn't gone to shite, I'd most likely be doing the same thing until father decided I had to learn how to manage the Malfoy vaults."

"Would have been worth it, given what was in them," she said wistfully.

"Past tense," he reminded her. "One Saturday, Harry and I had gone to the Muggle supermarket to pick up some things. There were two women in front of us in the check-out lane and one of them was singing the praises of her new masseuse. She was saying how working with him had helped so much after some accident made her unable to raise her one arm. I thought, what would it be like to actually help someone like that? So, I asked Harry to find some information about it."

"And he talked to Granger," they said at the same time, then laughed.

"Precisely. She showed up with books and pamphlets and information on training and what schooling was necessary. It was a bit overwhelming, but then again, she can be."

"Are you friends with her too, then?" Pansy asked, carefully keeping her eyes averted to what she was doing. Draco stared at her narrow shoulders for a moment.

"She's not a bad person," he finally answered. "But she'll never be you."

Pansy gave him a slightly relieved smile. "So, you read the great mountains of information she provided…"

He nodded. "And I realised I could use the massage therapy along with potions I brewed specifically for people, and I actually could do something productive with my life."

"That's very heroic, Draco, but it still doesn't explain how you and Potter ended up doing the horizontal Mambo together."

"…horizontal Mambo?" He put his hands on his hips. "Again, why are we friends?" He waved the thought away with his hand. "In hindsight, that part of the story is really fairly anticlimactic. He came in from training one day, it was the day I'd received my acceptance from the uni I wanted to attend, and I was absolutely beside myself wanting to share my news. He came in the door and I blurted it out. He stared for a minute and then rushed over, pulling me into an embrace."

Harry had been warm and his hair still damp from the showers in the Ministry locker room, his black curls tight around his head and exuding that fragrance, the one that mingled wind and cold and green things growing. Draco was stunned, instantly hard and desperately needy. But those were details Pansy didn't need.

"The next thing I remember we were kissing, and at the risk of being a complete Hufflepuff…I remember thinking _I could kiss this man forever._ "

Draco ignored Pansy's _aww_. "Then we were in bed. And that's absolutely ALL I'm going to share about that!"

She put her hands on her hips. "How is that fair? When I pull, I tell you everything."

Draco made a 'gagging' expression. "I know."

She tossed a hand towel that was miraculously still intact at his head. "My love life has never made you gag, you brat," she protested. "You always want details!"

He held up one hand. "To a point. Think about it, Pans. Once your knickers come off, I'm ready to talk morning afters with tea and toast. I don't go any closer to a fanny than occasionally admiring a new pair of lace knickers."

She was laughing so hard, because it was the truth, that it took them both a moment to realise someone had rung the bell. They exchanged a long look, and Draco started for the door.

"Oh, no you don't," Pansy whispered harshly, grabbing his arm. "You are not opening that door." She pushed through the doorway and started for the sitting room.

"Well, you aren't going alone!"

Draco was right on her heels down the stairs until she reached the entryway, where she whirled on him. "Stay back, Draco," she hissed. "I mean it."

He huffed, but stepped back until he was mostly hidden by the arch leading into his sitting room. She glared at him, but nodded reluctantly.

"Don't you move from that spot!"

He raised his hands, frowning at her. The pushy bint.

She smoothed her hair and adjusted her jumper until it hung in neat lines, then stepped up to the door, her wand in her hand.

She unlocked the door, opening it just wide enough that she could look out.

"You, again," she said uncharitably. "Honestly, Deputy Head Auror—" Draco's heart leapt into his throat, "—haven't you anything better to do?"

"Look, I know he's here."

The deep voice flowed over Draco like a balm, and suddenly he didn't just want to see him, he needed to. He walked into the entry.

"I need to see him," Harry was saying. "It's important."

"Open the door, Pans," Draco said. She looked up at him in irritation.

"Draco—"

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, then took the door from her hand and opened it, stepping back.

Harry entered the flat, his eyes warily searching for Draco's. Draco carefully closed the door, then leaned against it before looking up. Once their eyes caught and held, they stared at one another for a long time. Finally, not giving a damn about how needy it made him look, Draco made a strangled sound and pushed off the door, rushing to Harry, who caught him in his arms in a tight embrace.

"Tell me this didn't fuck us up—," Harry said against the side of Draco's head.

"No, it's okay," Draco answered quickly, his hands curling into the back of Harry's heavy red wool robes.

"It fucking isn't," Harry said harshly. "Nothing about this is okay." He slipped his hands into Draco's hair, gently pulling his head back. "You're not hurt? Not permanently." He rubbed his thumb gently over Draco's swollen, bruised cheekbone. "I'll kill him, I swear to God I will."

"Get in line, Potter."

At Pansy's snarl, they both looked at her. She was standing near the door, her arms crossed.

"Yes, I'm still here." She gave a jaunty little wave. Harry turned back to Draco.

"Does she know?"

Draco gave him an ironic look, his head angled to the side. A deep red stain slipped up Harry's neck, and Draco now knew his blushes began in the middle of his chest and bloomed over his pecs before climbing his throat. The thought sent arousal down his spine, and he forcibly pushed it away as wildly inappropriate when they had an audience.

"I rather think the clinch gave it away," Draco said softly, not wanting to embarrass Harry in front of Pansy.

"Yeah, I realise. Is she okay with it?"

"I'm right here," she said pointedly, "and my hearing is excellent."

Harry turned to her, looking as awkward as Draco had seen him since they were adults. Draco gave her a warning look, hoping she could hear 'don't you dare, you Slytherin bint' in his glare. She smirked; never a good sign.

"My apologies, Ms Parkinson. I truly wasn't meaning to ignore you."

Pansy looked at him, then huffed. "How can I possibly take the Mickey when you're being so bloody polite?"

"Restrain yourself," Draco said dryly. "And yes, she's fine with it."

'Or else' was implicit even though it was unsaid, and Pansy sighed but Draco knew she wasn't unhappy about them.

Draco turned back to Harry, and Harry caught his chin, staring into his eyes.

"I truly am so sorry."

"You didn't do this," Draco said, finally allowing himself to relax against Harry's solid body.

He felt Harry's sigh. "Mistakes have been made. People working for me fucked up." He straightened. "I have news."

Draco leaned back, his hands on Harry's arms as he studied his wide, startlingly green eyes. It was those eyes that attracted him in the first place, when they'd been eleven years old. Those large, thickly lashed eyes. He startled when Pansy cleared her throat. He looked over at her, and unless he was mistaken, she was fighting laughter. Draco blinked, then stepped back from Harry's warmth.

"You said you have news."

Harry patted his chest, and Draco could hear the crackling of paper under his robes. "Can we sit?"

"Uhm," Draco tried to think where there would be enough places for all of them that weren't broken or slashed.

"Sitting room," Pansy said softly. Draco opened his mouth. "I'll sit on the floor in front of the fireplace."

He hesitated, then sighed. He really hadn't wanted Harry to see the condition of the flat, knowing how he'd react but without his wand there wasn't much he could do about it. He gestured toward the doorway.

Pansy led the way and Draco knew the moment Harry's eyes moved over the now meagre contents of his sitting room.

"Son of a bitch," Harry growled. He turned on Draco, his face livid. "So everything that's gone—"

"Destroyed, or so badly damaged it didn't make sense to try to repair it."

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched, and his hands clenched.

"You need to make a list of everything that's been destroyed," Harry said, his voice tight.

"I'm already doing it."

Draco looked at Pansy in surprise.

"Just because you haven't noticed doesn't mean it isn't being done," she said with a toss of her head. Draco recalled that Pansy had always had a photographic memory; she'd been the source for every case of lost class notes or midnight cramming session. He studied her resolute expression, grateful once again that she was on his side. She was a fierce friend.

"And this?" Harry walked to the settee, staring in dismay at the jagged cuts. "Why haven't you repaired it?"

Harry knew how much the little piece of furniture meant to Draco. He also knew Draco was good at both furniture and tailoring spells, neither of which he could do without a wand.

When Harry turned back to look at him, Draco took a deep breath.

"His wand is gone." Draco glared at Pansy. "What? I'm supposed to stand here while you hem and haw in an effort not to hurt his little feelings?" She returned Draco's glare, then turned to Harry. "One of your minions snapped it in two."

Draco knew what that rattling of glass in the window frames meant.

"Harry," he said softly. "The windows." He chanced a glance at Pansy and shrugged when her brows arched.

The rattling stopped abruptly but the fury on Harry's face didn't fade. "Where is it?"

Draco hesitated barely a moment before he reached back and pulled the two pieces of the hawthorn wand out of his pocket. When Harry extended his hand, he passed it over without comment.

Harry looked down at the ragged pieces, carefully fitting the break together, a frown of concentration between his dark brows.

"Do not freak out," Harry said to the room at large. "I haven't the time or patience to deal with it."

Pansy sought Draco's face. "Is he talking to me?" she asked in a whisper.

"I assume so," Draco answered. "I'm a bit beyond freaking out."

"Both of you be quiet," Harry ordered gently, his hand curling around the broken pieces of wand. He closed his eyes, and Draco watched in fascination as a low hum began to sound in the room, and light escaped around his wand, clearly emanating from Harry's palm. He chanced a glance at Pansy and saw her watching, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a small 'o'. He'd tease her later about it being one of the only times he'd ever seen her struck silent, but right now he wasn't capable of it. Harry's magic was filling the room and Draco closed his eyes, allowing the electrical, almost sexual pull of it wash over him.

The hum gradually faded, and Draco opened his eyes and looked over at him. Harry opened his hand, and there lay the wand, mended as if it had never been broken. Harry held it out, and Draco took it with a slight smile.

"Thank you," he whispered. Harry nodded briskly.

"Merlin's fucking molars," Pansy said finally, her voice raw. Draco looked at her, amused by her extremely wide eyes and the almost complete lack of colour in her face. She turned her head and caught his gaze. "Okay, I get it," she whispered, crossing her arms over her breasts, but not before Draco saw the tight, high nipples. He knew how Harry's magic felt; he got hard almost every time he was in the same room with it. "I totally get it."

Draco nodded without calling her out on her physical reaction. After all, he wasn't concerned; he knew Harry was about as fond of fanny as he was.

"Uhm," she stared at Draco, and he bit his lower lip, amused by her blown pupils. "There was something…"

"News," he provided, moving away from the settee to sit in one of two ecru armchairs that sat on either side of the fireplace. They were slashed, the stuffing mostly gone, but Draco figured repairing them wouldn't take much effort and they could both still be sat in. He used his wand to cast an _Incendio_ toward the logs in the hearth, the only thing the Aurors had left in place on the main floor. It felt so good to do magic he nearly kissed the wand in his hand.

Harry reached into his robes and withdrew a file. "I don't know who ordered your arrest," he said, flipping the file open, "but I do know who filed the initial complaint."

"Well, that's certainly a start," Draco said, sitting on the edge of his seat. Harry held out a piece of parchment.

"It was Ludo Bagman."

Draco had started to reach out but his hand froze in mid-air and his eyes jerked to Harry's. "Bagman? But– Why?"

Harry looked as if even discussing it made him angry. "He said he came to you for treatment, but—" Harry's eyes went very wide and he dropped the parchment to grip Draco's hand.

"Draco— your lab. Oh, shit, I hadn't even thought—"

"No, it's okay." Draco curled his fingers around Harry's. He stroked his thumb over Harry's sharp knuckles. "Your crack Auror team apparently hadn't done enough research to know that there was a treatment centre in the basement. The offices and the lab were untouched."

Harry dropped his face into his free hand. "Thank Christ." He lifted his head and pressed his lips to the back of Draco's hand. "I hadn't even thought…"

"It doesn't matter, Harry. It's fine." Draco stroked his free hand over Harry's dark curls.

A snort stilled his hand.

"You two are nauseating, I swear to Merlin."

"Shut up," he muttered, shooting a dark look towards Pansy. She had crossed her long legs and one of her feet was bouncing in its high heel. He knew if he looked at her face she'd be smirking, so he didn't.

"At any rate," Draco said, leaning forward to pick up the dropped parchment from the floor. "Bagman." He looked down at the complicated report, then handed it back to Harry. "Condense, if you please."

Harry clearly didn't want to, and he sighed. "He filed a complaint. He said that he came for treatment, and instead of helping him, you propositioned him."

Pansy snorted out loud, but Draco's eyes fell open so wide it was almost painful.

"He said what?" he bit out.

"As if." Pansy rolled her eyes. "That fat old blimp?"

Draco hadn't torn his eyes from Harry's.

"It's a total lie, I know," Harry said. "I just can't figure out why."

"Because," Draco snapped tightly, "he did come to me for treatment, and when he was naked on the table, he rolled over and asked me to blow him. I told him to put on his trousers and get the hell out of my house."

Harry nodded. "That makes total sense. I knew it had to be something like that; this criminal report was filed for revenge. Damn it!" Harry pushed to his feet and began to pace restlessly. "I want to know who the fuck ordered those two numpties to come after you."

"There's no signature on the report, telling you who filed it?" Pansy asked.

Harry shook his head. "They know better, but whoever wrote it up left it blank."

"That's not suspicious," she said sharply.

"Pansy," Draco warned.

"It's incredibly suspicious," Harry said over him.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Everyone froze. After a moment Harry spoke. "Oh, that'll be Hermione."

Pansy popped up and rushed to the door, in front of the others. She called over her shoulder, in a tone that held mischief, "Oh please…allow me."

"Pansy," Draco warned, but he could already hear the door opening.

"I…I was looking for Harry," Hermione stammered uncharacteristically, "Harry Potter?"

Draco's attempt to stand was stopped by Harry's hand on his arm. "Hermione can handle herself," Harry said smiling, "once she gets past her surprise."

Draco, who had been on the other side of Pansy's sass, wasn't convinced, but sat and listened.

"You think you're looking for Harry Potter? Or you actually know who you're here to see? Which would be surprising that it's Harry Potter, as this is the residence of Draco Malfoy." Pansy's tone held just an edge of snide.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Parkinson," Hermione chided. "I was simply startled when you answered the door. As neither of us has time for games, I'm going to surmise you're aware of the _situation_ with Draco. So if you please, I'd like to come in."

" _Situation_?" Pansy shot back. "Is that what the Ministry big-wigs call having your home destroyed and being hauled in like a common criminal? Which he's not and never has been!"

Draco knew it was time to stop Pansy's rant before she built up steam. "Pansy, for the love of Merlin! Let Hermione come in. _I'm_ going to assume she has information that can help end this bullshit." He waited for a moment. "Do not make me…"

Fortunately he didn't need to finish his threat, as Pansy led Hermione into the living room, her expression mulish.

"Granger," Draco said with a nod of his head. "I do hope I was correct and you've come with information for us."

Hermione smiled at Draco, and then Harry. "I see the Kneazle's out of the bag. But yes, I do have information. I was able to sort through a ridiculous amount of unfiled Auror reports." She turned and put her hands on her hips. "Really, Harry, you ought to do something about how far behind your department is in sending their X-9746 forms to filing. You'd think a group of grown men would be more responsible…"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted softly, "the news?"

"Right," she said. "There's no easy way to say this, Harry. I checked and double checked before I came here. The order for Draco to be brought in and his house ransacked came from Robards." She waited for the explosion, surprised when there was none.

Harry sat, staring at her, slowly shaking his head back and forth. "I don't believe it. There must be a mistake. Robards? Why?"

Draco could see Hermione square her shoulders. "What I've found is that Robards was getting _insider_ information from Ludo Bagman and using that information to place wagers on sporting events, like Quidditch matches and flying horse races. Ludo would get a percentage of the winnings, but it appears Robards hasn't been forthcoming with Ludo's…what do they call that…take?"

"But what does that have to do with Draco?" Pansy asked.

"From what I can surmise," Hermione said, "Draco did something to offend Ludo." Harry and Draco exchanged a meaningful look. "As a result, he filed a complaint with Robards, intimating that Draco was doing something illegal. He all but insisted Robards bring Draco in for questioning, and because Robards is compromised and owes Ludo money, he didn't know how to get around it."

Harry stood and walked behind Draco's chair. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath; not sure he could trust his voice at the moment.

Draco was livid, but he could see that if he was angry, Harry was devastated. He knew Harry liked Robards; they'd discussed his admiration for the man more than once. Finding out that someone he deeply respected was corrupt had to shake him in ways that had probably never happened before. Unlike Draco, who had known since he was sixteen that often, his idols had feet of clay. There had been no greater betrayal than his father insisting from his prison cell that Draco take the Dark Mark. Bellatrix made sure it happened, but Lucius insisted, in the hope that it would somehow alleviate Voldemort's anger with _him_. It hadn't worked.

Harry had moved to sit on the arm of Draco's chair, and Draco could feel him trembling with suppressed rage. Again, the windows began to rattle in their frames. The harder he fought not to show it, the more his rage seemed to reorder the basic molecules in the room. Carefully, knowing Harry's magic could be wild when he was wound up, Draco reached out and curled his hand around his wrist.

"Harry," he murmured. "Relax."

Harry looked down at him, his eyes livid. "What do I do with this, Draco?"

Draco slipped his hand down, linking their fingers. "You take a deep breath, and you decide that it's his flaw, not yours."

"Exactly," Hermione said, looking at Harry with entreaty. "It's on him, Harry. Not you."

Slowly, the tension in the air seemed to ease and the windows settled.

"Thank you," Draco said, offering a small smile. "I'd really like not to have to replace my windows along with everything else." Harry rolled his eyes, but he seemed calmer. Pansy caught his eye, and hers were very wide.

"Christ on a raft," she muttered. "He's a bit like a lighted fuse, isn't he? And I mean, its very sexy, in a completely terrifying way."

Hermione snorted, and before they knew it she'd begun to giggle. "That is probably," she gasped, "the best description of Harry I've heard in a very long time."

Her giggle was infectious, and it was probably a function of the unresolved tension of the last twenty-four hours, but Draco let out a completely undignified snort. He clapped his hand over his mouth, but he couldn't stop the laugh that escaped.

"Oh, that was attractive," she teased, even as she began to laugh herself. "I'm totally sure he wants to jump a man who makes that noise."

Harry pulled his hand away and crossed his arms, and Draco knew it was embarrassment at finding himself discussed as if he weren't standing there. He could almost feel the expressive roll of his green eyes; Harry tended to do that when he felt self-conscious. Draco couldn't help it; he had to poke at him.

"Don't think I don't know you're rolling your eyes again," Draco said, repeating something his mother had said to him but putting his own spin on it. "One day they'll roll down your throat and fall out your arse— you mark my words."

This only heightened Hermione's hilarity, and she sat on the floor, her legs straight in front of her, bending over them as she laughed. It was such a delightful, unexpected sight that Pansy laughed, which set Draco off. The only one not laughing was Harry, and he stared around the room, shaking his head.

"You're all mad," he said, but Draco could see him fighting the smile that was trying very hard to slip across his face. Draco reached out with his foot, teasing the back of one of Harry's legs.

"It's all right," he murmured to him. "You can smile."

Harry's eyes lit up first, but he did give Draco a small smile.

The loud knock that sounded on the front door startled them all into silence.

It sounded so much like the pounding that had started this whole disaster that Draco felt a chill run down his spine. Harry seemed to know what he was thinking instinctively, and his jaw firmed as he turned to go to the door.

"No." Draco grabbed his arm as he passed, holding on tight. Harry stopped and looked down into his eyes.

"Draco."

"No, it's my house," Draco said. "It's my house," he repeated, "and if anyone is going to be answering the door, it's me." He pushed himself to his feet.

"Wait," Pansy said, jumping up as well. "It might be those Aurors again."

"It had better fucking not be," Harry growled, pulling against Draco's grip.

"Wait!" Hermione said sharply. They all went silent and turned to her. "Just…sshh." She climbed to her feet and put her finger in front of her lips, then indicated the entry with a nod of her head. Moving almost silently, she led the way until they could see the front door. She withdrew her wand from a holster in her sleeve and waved it with a softly muttered spell, and the wood of the door went transparent from the top to the bottom.

Standing on the steps was Ludo Bagman. Draco stared at the fat, florid face, and a sudden thought occurred.

Harry growled, but Draco shook his head, gesturing back to the sitting room.

"Listen," he whispered. "I'm going to let him in."

"You're _what_?" Harry snarled.

"No, listen," Draco said quickly. "This is good. He might say something to incriminate himself."

"He also might try to hurt you," Harry was clearly not happy with the idea.

"Harry, you need to listen," Hermione said. "What can he do? We're all going to be in the next room. We won't let him hurt Draco. But if he _does_ say something, and the Deputy Head Auror and the Undersecretary to the Minister _hear him_ …" she cut off her statement and stared at Harry meaningfully.

"Well, that makes me feel oh so very important," Pansy groused, crossing her arms.

"You'll be a witness," Hermione snapped at her. "Don't pout."

"I do not pout," Pansy said, pouting.

"Pansy, I adore you, but you pout like a pro," Draco told her. "Now listen, we need to do this or he's going to go away!"

Another pounding made the front door shudder, and Harry glared at it. "It doesn't sound as if he's going away. Draco, I don't like this."

"That's pretty clear," Hermione sighed.

"Draco Malfoy, I know you're in there!"

Draco glanced at the door, then back at Harry, waiting.

Finally, Harry sighed explosively. "Fine. But if he touches you…"

"I have my wand, Harry. He won't do it more than once."

They stared at each other, then Harry turned and went to the wall, pushing on a hidden door that led to a small room he knew was there. It popped open, and he gestured expansively, urging the women through before him. When they were all inside, Draco closed the door, sparing a lingering look for Harry as he did so. The crossed arms and the stormy expression didn't bode well for Draco's plan, but there wasn't time to argue about it. He felt the shiver of magic under his palm, and knew Granger had spelled the door so they could see through it. She was an amazing witch; from this side the door looked as it always had.

"Draco Malfoy!!!"

He took a deep breath and ran his hand over the hoodie and joggers he wore. Not how he usually greeted people, but he didn't much care what Ludo Bagman thought of his attire.

"I'm coming," Draco called when Ludo pounded again. He walked briskly through the entryway and pulled open the door. He glared at Ludo, not having to falsify his irritation one bit. "I do have neighbours, Ludo. I don't appreciate you pounding on my door like that, causing a racket."

Ludo gave him a greasy, smug smile. "I'll bet you've had enough of that for the week, haven't you?" He focused on the bruises on Draco's face. He lifted his hand to touch it, and Draco ducked under his hand. "Oh, dear. Someone truly did bat you about, didn't they?"

Draco turned and walked away from him, praying he'd follow. He only exhaled when he heard the door close and Ludo's heavy footfalls behind him. He led the man into his sitting room, then turned, crossing his arms.

"What did you want, Ludo?" he asked. "I thought I made myself abundantly clear about the possibility of us seeing one another again the last time you were here."

"Ah, but things have changed a bit since then, haven't they?"

Ludo dropped into one of the ecru chairs, and it groaned under his weight.

He'd probably been handsome once, Draco thought. Tall, and muscular in his youth, he'd been quite the Quidditch star for years. Now he was paunchy and jowly, his muscles soft and his eyes small and piggish. His hair had been black, but now it was that unfortunate shade of pewter grey that looked more like a Muggle cleaning pad than a head of hair. And the look he was levelling on Draco right then made him feel as if he needed several very hot showers. Immediately.

"I don't know what you mean," Draco said, lifting his chin.

"Oh, sweet man," Ludo crooned. "Of course you do. I'm referring to the visit you had from some of the fine members of our Auror Squad a few days ago. I'm guessing that's their handiwork on your face."

"Fine members?" Draco said incredulously. "Those thugs destroyed my house and beat me up."

"So I see." He looked around casually. "Pity, it appears to have been a lovely room."

Draco sighed heavily, crossing his arms and gripping his elbows. He was trembling in his core, and he hoped the man in front of him couldn't tell.

"Ludo, why are you here?" he asked wearily, and didn't have to fake the exhaustion. His experience of the last few days was catching up with him.

"Why, I'm here to discuss your… situation."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What ‘situation' would that be?"

"Why, the fact you're under suspicion of— how shall I put this? Being a member of the world's oldest profession?"

"There were no charges," Draco ground out. "They simply came here, trashed the place and threw me in a holding cell. And trust me, once I have a chance to meet with my solicitors, the Ministry will be very sorry, to the tune of as many Galleons as I can get."

"Oh Draco, Draco," Ludo chided in a sing song voice that made Draco's stomach muscles clench so tight they were trembling, "with my testimony, you'll be lucky if you have a dime left of your _ill-gotten gains_."

Draco choked on that. "My what?"

Ludo crossed his chubby legs, and there was nothing smooth about the motion. He actually had to reach down and pull his knee into place over his other leg, and Draco dug his nails into his palms to distract himself with pain so he didn't laugh.

"You know there are questions as to how someone who lost everything suddenly found the funds to attend university, learn a skill and move into a fairly decent place." He looked around again at the destroyed furniture, one brow arching. "Although," Ludo chuckled, "it's not much to look at right now. Leaving that aside, I'm here to help you with your little problem. Make it," he waved one pudgy hand in the air, "disappear as quickly as it started."

"You'll make it…disappear?" Draco raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "And how do you propose to do that, precisely? You haven't got that kind of clout at the Ministry, Ludo."

"Oh, my dear," Ludo laughed jollily. "You have no idea the kind of clout I have. Perhaps you should bear that in mind."

Draco felt wound as tight as a watch. It was so hard not to draw his wand and blow the conceited, over-sized blimp to pieces. Harry had blown up a relative once, hadn't he? Perhaps Draco would ask him to teach him how he'd done that.

"I find," Draco said slowly, "that I'm having some difficulty understanding precisely what you're getting at. Perhaps you should just… spell it out for me."

Ludo uncrossed his legs and patted his knee. "Come here, sweetheart. Don't be so stand-offish." His smile turned sickly sweet. "I can make it well worth your while."

Draco thought the man must be mad, and he was afraid his expression must convey that. He held his ground, staring at Ludo, waiting. Finally, Ludo sighed.

"Fine. You are a stubborn little thing, aren't you?" Ludo chuckled, and Draco ground his back teeth. "I have a good deal of… influence with a highly placed person in the MLE. That's Magical Law Enforcement, just for your information."

"I know what it means," Draco snapped. "What I want is for you to explain your ‘ill-gotten gains' comment."

"Draco, you had to know someone was going to question your turn in fortunes. Everyone knows the Ministry took everything, and yet you suddenly came into money." He shrugged one shoulder. "I simply— shall we say— presented a hypothesis. A very convincing hypothesis."

"I still don't understand." Draco knew he needed for Bagman to spell it out, but this was making his skin crawl. He held onto his composure with his fingernails.

Ludo clicked his teeth. "You're usually so much quicker than this. Think about it, Draco. You have special rooms in your basement, where you have a padded table, and you get your clients naked and then… touch them. All I had to do was suggest to my friend in law enforcement that there was something very fishy and perhaps… illegal going on."

"You know there isn't," Draco said, fighting his revulsion. "I'm licensed, I went to school. You know I run a legitimate business."

"So you say. I still don't know where the money came from to set you up in the first place, but I have an excellent imagination. It was oh so very easy to convince Gawain Robards that you'd been selling that pretty little arse of yours for long enough to pay for school, the flat, everything. And you do know that prostitution is illegal in our world." His beady eyes turned cold. "As part of your arrest, your account at Gringotts was audited." His grin reminded Draco of a snake, and he shuddered. "You still don't have any money in your account, Draco, and you haven't since the Ministry took all of Daddy's money. So how, exactly, are you paying for everything? You can see how it looks."

Draco was outraged. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Ludo rubbed his fat hands together slowly. "I told you, I'm a man of influence. You never should have turned me down the last time I came to see you. If you'd been more cooperative, none of this would have happened."

Draco swallowed heavily. "Why would Robards go along with this? I've never done anything to him."

"You didn't have to, sweetheart. Don't you see? I have dirt on Robards. The poor bastard will give me anything I want. And what I want," he paused for effect, "is you."

Draco turned away, unable to hide his contempt for a moment longer. It was a mistake. For a fat man in his sixties, Ludo moved remarkably well. He was on his feet with his arms clenched around Draco's waist, his groin pressing into Draco's arse. He was hard, his tiny little dick like an acorn poking against Draco's tailbone. It hurt, and Draco slapped at his arms.

"Unhand me, you fat slob!"

The door in the wall burst open and Harry was there, his arms crossed and his face a mask of fury. Pansy was immediately behind him, looking as if she could chew glass, and Granger was behind her, one of her brows arched as she stared Bagman down. He released Draco as if he were suddenly on fire.

"Potter! I— Ms Granger. Whatever— how did you—," he pointed a trembling finger at Draco. "This man is a criminal! Deputy Head Auror, you should take him into custody!"

Harry drew his wand, pointed it at Draco, then shifted the tip slightly and said, _Incarcerous_ in a voice that was deep and calm. And frightening.

Thin black ropes burst from Harry's wand and wrapped around Ludo, sealing him in a tight bundle from his neck to his ankles. He struggled against them but all that did was throw him off balance and he landed on the floor with a loud crash.

"Auror Potter," he protested, still squirming against the ropes. "This man—, this man…" He apparently could see by the anger in Harry's eyes and the ticking muscle in his jaw that he wasn't getting anywhere with him. "Undersecretary Granger, surely you can see what's happening here— clearly the MLE is corrupt!!"

"Oh, Ludo," she said. "Something is corrupt, but it isn't the MLE." She shook her head, then turned to Harry. "So, what shall we charge him with? Extortion? Blackmail? Filing a false criminal report?"

"At least." Harry stalked over to Ludo and looked down at him. Draco had never seen his eyes so hard. He pointed his wand between Ludo's eyes, and Draco thought the man looked as though he could have pissed himself. In his position, looking up into Harry's stark, furious face, he thought he'd probably feel the same. "What do you have on Robards?"

"Auror Potter," Ludo pleaded. "Please, be reasonable. I truly thought Malfoy was at the very least prostituting himself, perhaps even running some sort of service. The amount of money he has been spending, when there was no source of income—."

"Ludo, you need to shut up," Hermione said, almost kindly. "The hole you're digging is only getting deeper."

"Oh, no," Pansy said, sneering down at the bound man. "Please. Do let him keep talking."

"Auror Potter," Ludo tried again. "The money! It had to come from somewhere."

"It came from me!"

Harry's voice rang off the walls, not loud but with such intensity that it seemed to vibrate.

Ludo went utterly still on the floor, tiny eyes popping as wide as they could.

"You— but— what?"

"The money. Came. From. Me," Harry repeated.

The man on the floor gaped, and Hermione walked over to him, her wand now in her hand. "And before you ask, he does have all of the documentation to prove it, and it's all above board. Now, my advice to you is you shut it, because you're about to be taken into custody and if you've one braincell in your head, you won't speak again until you have legal representation." She looked over at Draco, her brow furrowed. "Did they offer to call you a solicitor?"

Draco shook his head. "No. Just destroyed my flat and tossed me in a holding cell."

"Oh, that's very bad," she said grimly. She looked to Harry. "There must be another charge in that."

"One would think," he answered, still not taking his eyes off of Ludo.

"I'm sure I can think of something." Hermione's smirk was as snide as anything Snape had ever managed.

"You know," Pansy said thoughtfully, looking at her. "Weird as it sounds, I think I could really like you."

Hermione returned her appraising look. "Back at you." She turned to Harry. "I can do this alone, you know."

Harry lifted his eyes to her, then turned to look at Draco, waiting.

"It's okay," Draco said, smiling slightly. He knew Harry cared for him, but he also understood Harry's commitment to what he thought of as his duty. "Go do what you need to."

Harry walked to him, slipping his hand around Draco's nape and leaning in until their foreheads were pressed together.

"Go to my place," Harry said softly. "You know you can't stay here tonight. You can take a shower, and then eat something. I stocked up on that red wine you like."

Draco smiled. "I knew there was a reason we were together, totally aside from the fact you're very good in bed." He could just see Harry's answering smile.

"Good to know. I might be a while."

"I'm a big boy. I'll manage."

Totally unconcerned about their witnesses, including the one bound on the floor, Harry gave Draco a slow, lingering kiss, then stepped back.

"All right, Hermione. Let's do this."

"You want to take him, or shall I?"

Harry looked down at Ludo again. "I'll do it. Everything according to procedure with this one, considering what went down before. We don't want to give him any way to wiggle 'round it."

She nodded. "Good plan."

She _Apparated_ out. Harry gave Pansy a slight nod, then looked at Draco. The heat in his eyes was palpable as he disappeared.

"That woman shows real promise," Pansy said to Draco.

Draco looked around the suddenly very empty room. "Merlin, is this over?" Draco asked Pansy.

"Aside from putting your life back together, you mean?" she replied.

"Yes, aside from that." He sighed, feeling his shoulders ease for the first time in days. Immediately on the heels of the kinks easing, exhaustion flooded in. He was so tired.

"All right, Mr Malfoy," Pansy said briskly, looking over at him. "Before you fall asleep standing there, give me the keys to your office. It's time for Ms Parkinson…Mr Malfoy's able-bodied assistant to go smooth some ruffled client feathers and make certain you have a business to run." She winked at him, linking her arm through his. "Next week is soon enough for Transcendence to re-open its doors. I'll do what needs to be done and Floo home after."

"No, I'll stay with you." Even as the words left his mouth, his entire body protested. Damn, he wanted Harry's big, steaming shower and then his lovely, soft bed.

"Don't be an idiot," she said, pulling him toward the stairs. "You're dead on your feet, and the last thing I need is for you to pass out on me. Potter will have my guts for garters." She gave Draco an appraising look. "He can be a bit scary; you know? Now, come along."

"Morgana's tits, you're a bossy bint," he muttered. She looked up at him with a bright smile.

"And you love me." She batted her long lashes at him. He shook his head.

"Yes. Although what that says about me, I don't know."

Her laugh was bright. "It says you have excellent taste in friends."

♥ ♥ ♥

Draco took a shower as hot as he could tolerate in Harry's large, luxurious shower, scrubbing his pale skin nearly raw. Pansy's guest bathroom was perfectly serviceable but Harry had remodelled the master ensuite when he moved into Grimmauld, and his shower was a thing of beauty. Done in black tiles with river rock pebbles on the floor, Draco had spent enough time with him that bottles of his shampoo, conditioner and body wash lined a deep ledge around the large space. Harry had installed a magical water heater that provided endless hot water, and Draco stayed under it, trying to scrub away the days spent in a filthy holding cell and Ludo Bagman's touch until his fingers and toes looked like tiny prunes. He shuddered to even remember it.

He'd eaten a bagel standing up leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking a scalding hot cup of tea. By the time he dragged himself up the two flights of stairs to get to Harry's suite, he was so tired he was glad no one was trying to speak to him; he feared his only response would be nonsensical babble. He stripped off Harry's terry-cloth bathrobe, laying it over the foot of the bed, then slipped naked between the sheets. He was sound asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

The next thing he was aware of was a sturdy arm sliding around his waist, and a lovely lean body pressed against his back.

"Wha… Merlin, I hope that's Harry Potter back there," Draco mumbled. There was a puff of soft laughter against his nape that had gooseflesh raising over his chest and down his legs.

"And if it wasn't?" Harry said, his deep voice rich with amusement.

"Well." Draco pretended to think about it. "I'm quite fond of Harry, but if that's your idea of a welcome pressed against my arse, I might have to consider your case."

Harry chuckled, pressing Draco onto his back and raising up on an elbow to look down at him. "You are the only man I know who can come up with a pithy comment while still half asleep."

"Pithy, is it?" Draco raised a brow. Harry had lit the fire in the fireplace across the room, and the light from the flickering flames touched his handsome features, revealed his strong nose, his stubble dappled chin and upper lip. Draco reached up and ran his thumb along the square jaw, then up to card his fingers through Harry's thick black hair, so much softer than it looked. "Well, I just thought one of us should be able to admirably speak the English language."

Harry grinned, a dimple denting one of his cheeks. "See? Pithy."

Draco gave him a lazy grin back. "So. I'm assuming Ludo is cooling his heels in a holding cell."

Harry put his hand in the middle of Draco's chest and the warmth and gentleness of it sent a shiver of arousal down his spine and into his balls. "He is." Harry slid his hand over Draco's chest, taking one of Draco's pink nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed it gently, and Draco bit his lip, his back arching involuntarily from the bed. "I think he's having more trouble with the idea that you and I are together than that he's under arrest for bribery, extortion and filing a false Auror report."

Draco put his hand over Harry's, directing it over to his other nipple, the small nub pebbled into Harry's palm. "Can you hold that thought until later?" Draco asked, his legs shifting under the soft bedding and his cock plumping against his thigh. "It's not that I don't want to hear how everything turned out; I do. But right now there's something else I'd much rather have."

Harry's smile spread slowly across his lips, from one side to the other and the sight of it made Draco's toes curl. He lowered his head, licking the nipple he'd been slowly teasing, then taking it gently between his teeth while his hand slid down Draco's thigh. Draco's head pressed back into the soft pillow beneath it, and he groaned softly. Gods, it took no time at all for Harry to arouse him almost beyond bearing. If he didn't love it so much, Draco might almost be embarrassed. He wasn't.

He spread his legs when Harry shifted and lifted to lie on top of him, cradling Harry's strong body between his thighs. Draco's cock rubbed against Harry's muscled belly, and he feared he left a smear of precome in the soft, springy trail of black hair that led from Harry's navel to the nest of curls at his groin. Harry moved his mouth to Draco's other nipple, his bite sharper.

"Fuck," Draco gasped, fisting his hand in Harry's hair. "Your mouth."

"Glad you like it."

"Oh, I like it, all right." He pushed down on Harry's head, trying to urge him lower.

"I think you're trying to tell me something," Harry teased, shifting lower.

"Less talking, more action."

A dirty chuckle came from the level of Draco's navel. Instead of responding, Harry pushed his tongue into the small indentation, and Draco gasped, tugging sharply on Harry's hair.

"It was just a quick detour," Harry complained. "Merlin, you're pushy."

Draco pushed up with his hips, rubbing his cock against Harry's chest. Harry hummed and shifted lower still. "Now," he said smoothly, "isn't this a lovely thing."

He took Draco's cock in his hand, lifted it, and covered the dark pink head with his lips. He ran his tongue around it, and Draco made a whining noise that would have embarrassed him if he'd had his wits about him. "Please," Draco said breathlessly, "suck me."

Harry lifted his head. "Oh, I intend to." He licked a long stripe from base to tip, but then shifted even lower, suddenly shoving his hands under Draco's knees, pushing them up and back toward his chest.

"What are you…" Draco hissed, then shoved his fist in his mouth to stop the cry that rose in his throat. Harry sucked on the smooth skin behind his balls, then slipped his wicked tongue around the puckered pink skin of Draco's hole. Harry loosened the ring of muscle with diligent effort and then was finally able to push the tip of his tongue inside.

Draco had never been with a man who went to the lengths Harry did to satisfy his partner. Harry knew his body better than Draco did himself, and knew just what to do to make him come unglued. By the time Harry lifted his hand and _Accio'd_ the small black vial of lube from the bathroom chest, Draco was nearly incoherent with the need to have Harry inside him. Draco heard Harry pop the cork, and he braced his feet on the bed and pushed up.

"Easy," Harry said, his slippery fingers massaging Draco's hole, then pushing his index finger inside. Draco whined, pushing down, easing Harry's way. Harry crooked his finger and found Draco's prostate, and Draco cried out. He loved when Harry did this, bringing a low ache that spread through his pelvis every time Harry touched it, and the bastard knew it. Draco's cock jerked above his belly, a thick pearl of precome sliding down the side.

"I'm going to come if you keep that up," Draco said sharply.

"No, you aren't." Harry continued to massage Draco inside, but curled his other hand tight around the base of Draco's prick.

"Ah, you bastard," Draco whimpered. "Just fuck me."

"I will," Harry answered, "but I won't hurt you. Just relax and enjoy it."

"Why don't you… argh, just— Merlin!" Harry inserted another finger, and Draco bit his lip so hard he tasted the coppery tang of blood.

After that it was an agonisingly slow climb, almost higher than he could bear. Harry brought him to the edge again and again, squeezing off his orgasm, easing him down before ramping him up again. Finally, finally, when Draco didn't think he could stand it for one moment more, Harry withdrew his fingers, pushing his shoulders beneath Draco's knees and lifting his arse off of the bed. Holding him there, Harry took himself in hand and pushed the head of his thick prick against Draco's slick hole and steadily, with torturous slowness, pushed inside.

Draco's fingers clutched at the bedding and he made a garbled sound as Harry pushed all of the way in, until his groin was against Draco's arse. It burned and he hissed, and Harry ran a gentling hand up his side, almost as if Draco was a prize thoroughbred and Harry his rider, attempting to calm him. Draco laughed a bit wildly, and Harry slipped one hand around his nape.

"What?" he asked, staring into Draco's eyes. Draco shook his head.

"Nothing," he breathed in a soft voice. "Just… ride me, Harry," he begged, grabbing Harry's bicep and squeezing. "Ride me hard."

Draco could see the pleasure mixed with strain as Harry began to move, shallowly and gently at first but before long he was fucking Draco hard. He gripped Draco's hipbones to hold him in place, changing his angle and stroking across Draco's prostate with each thrust. It wasn't long before Draco was crying out, white stripes of come landing on his belly and chest, pushed out with each of Harry's hard pushes. Finally he had nothing left, but the pummelling on his prostate pulled him deep into another, more intense orgasm and he cried out and shook, until his legs fell off Harry's shoulders and caught in the crook of his elbows, and awareness drifted away.

He knew Harry came; he felt the heat of his come, felt some slip from his hole and between his arse cheeks. Harry stiffened above him, groaning deeply, holding in place as his orgasm made him shudder. Eventually, he pulled out gently before he caught Draco in his arms and rolled them to their sides.

"Merlin," Harry said, breathing hard.

"No, just me," Draco responded weakly, and Harry laughed. He pulled him in and kissed him deeply, his tongue sliding between Draco's teeth. He tried to respond in kind, but he was simply too wrung out, and he let Harry do what he pleased, lying back and being a happy recipient.

Harry nipped at Draco's lower lip and pulled back. "You, Draco Malfoy, aren't _just_ anyone."

All Draco could manage was a soft grunt.

He must've drifted off, but jerked back into awareness to Harry gently dabbing a soft, warm flannel at his arsehole.

"Excuse you, sir," he said sleepily. "That's a very personal thing to do."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I thought you'd rather me clean you up than you wake up glued to the sheets."

Draco huffed softly. "Well, I suppose there is that." He sighed deeply. "What an utterly lovely fuck."

"You're welcome." Harry tossed the flannel toward the bedroom hamper, and Draco heard it land wetly on the hardwood floor. When Harry lay down beside him, Draco elbowed him in the side.

"You go to all the trouble of refinishing the floors, then throw a wet come rag on them. Go pick that up before it leaves a mark."

Harry grumbled as he pushed himself up. "Bitch, bitch, bitch."

"You'll thank me in the morning."

Feeling somewhat restored, Draco pushed up onto his elbow and watched Harry walk across the room, arse muscles flexing, broad bare back a thing of beauty in the firelight. Harry bent and picked up the flannel, hanging it over the side of the hamper.

"Well done," Draco said softly. "You preserved the floor and your work robes."

Harry turned his head and gave him a slightly sour look. "I do have a brain in my head, you know."

Draco chuckled. "Trust me, it was one of the most startling things I learned about you."

Harry flipped him his middle finger, then bent again, (ah, that lovely arse) and picked something up off of a small table that sat near an armchair by the fire. When he came back to bed, Draco punched up his pillow and lay on his side, facing Harry and eyeing what he carried with interest. It was a dinner plate; on it there were grapes, sliced brie and saltwater crackers and some of Draco's favourite soft-baked chocolate biscuits.

"Oh, brilliant Mr Potter," Draco said earnestly. "Fuck me and feed me; two of my favourite things. I could kiss you."

Harry placed the plate on the white sheets next to Draco and sat down on the bed. His prick was still half hard, and Draco was enjoying the view when Harry leaned forward, stopping inches from his face. "My pleasure." He gave him a soft kiss, and Draco sighed in contentment.

He picked one of the fat, purple grapes and popped it into his mouth, delighting at the burst of sweet, fruity flavour. "Heaven," he sighed. "All right," he layered some of the brie between two crackers, "talk to me."

Harry picked up a piece of the nutty cheese and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he seemed to remember something.

"Hold on," he held up a finger and walked quickly to the bedroom door, returning with a wooden tray that held two glasses of red wine. He handed one to Draco, who gave him a smile.

Draco took a sip, then sat up, unable to figure out how to manoeuvre the wine and the food while reclining on his side. He was sure some ancient Roman must've been able to do it while lounging around some steamy, sexy bath house, but he could not figure out how to manage it. He crossed his long legs, wine in one hand and more cheese in the other. "So, tell me..."

"Okay." Harry sipped his wine. "Apparently, Gawain has developed an expensive addiction."

"Oh, really," Draco said, trying to walk the fine line between delight at really good gossip, and the realization that the man had been someone Harry looked up to. "Do tell."

Harry shrugged one shoulder, staring into his wine. "He has a bit of a Quidditch fixation."

"So Robards has a gambling problem?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "And Ludo Bagman, for all of his faults, still has a pretty good inside track with the professional Quidditch leagues."

"You know, I only saw him the one time, and he spent the entire hour bragging about how well connected he still is. It reminded me of Slughorn."

Harry grinned faintly. "Yeah. Apparently he's been feeding Gawain information for months, and Gawain would pay him a cut of his profits. Up until recently, things had been working out quite well for him and Bagman. Bagman would gather his titbits of information, and pass them along to Robards in a "For Your Eyes Only" report. If it wasn't illegal, it would be fairly brilliant."

"I imagine the Ministry will be looking into changing that report format," Draco supposed. "What changed? Didn't they have this arrangement for some time?"

Harry stifled a yawn. "Robards wasn't winning as much as before. He accused Bagman of giving him false information." He gave a derisive snort. "Imagine that… he was using his position inside of the Ministry to place illegal bets, and he thought Bagman was holding out on him. Arsehole."

Draco reached out and put his hand on Harry's arm. "I am sorry."

Harry shook his head. "He deserves what he gets. Anyway, Robards stopped paying Ludo his cut. Then you insulted Ludo's _manhood_ and he snapped."

"Obviously, if his reaction was to have me falsely arrested and my home ruined," Draco retorted. "And all because I refused to put that miniature dick in my mouth." He shuddered. "Disgusting pervert."

"Yeah, he's going to be paying for that for a long time." Draco enjoyed the satisfaction in Harry's eyes. "Deciding to use you to get back at Robards was probably the dumbest thing he's ever done in his life. He's lucky Hermione was with me as witness; it kept me from kicking him square in the balls, which is what I wanted to do. Oh, and Beecham and Holden are paying, too. Gawain has been suspended without pay until Kingsley and the legal team can figure out what to charge him with, but Beecham and Holden got the sack."

Draco gave him a vengeful smile. "I'd say that's too bad, but it isn't."

Harry grinned at him, popping a grape into his mouth and chewing slowly. "It's a relief to me not to have them on my team anymore."

"I'll bet." A thought occurred, and Draco's eyes widened. "Am I sitting naked in bed with the new Head Auror?"

Harry shook his head. "Merlin, no. I don't want that job. It's all paper work and sitting on your arse. No, John Dawlish can have it, with my blessing."

"He's already got the arse for it," Draco said lightly. "And the stomach. I'm surprised he's still an Auror at all."

"Don't sell him short," Harry said. "He's faster with a curse than I am."

"I don't believe that for a moment," Draco said. He shifted on the bed. "Does this mean I can transfer the Black vaults into my own accounts now? No more having to remember to sign as D. Black?"

"Hermione thinks you should, yes. Now that Bagman knows about where the money came from, it's only a matter of time until everyone knows."

"So what is it you're not telling me," Draco said, trying to keep fear from rising in his voice.

Harry curled his arm under his head, lying on his side, looking at Draco, easily tangling their legs together.

"Ludo is in custody, bitching a blue streak on how he was set up to anyone who will listen." Harry's mouth flattened. "I'm sorry, Draco." Draco's heart sank at his expression.

"What?" he asked in alarm.

"If you wanted for people not to know about us, Ludo is setting fire to that secret as we speak."

Relief flooded him, and Draco batted him in the chest with an irritated huff. "You arse, you scared me. You're such an idiot."

Harry rubbed at the spot Draco had hit on his chest. "Well, you haven't told anyone, have you?"

Draco frowned at him. "Why does that matter?"

"Didn't you want to keep it a secret?"

Draco thought about it, then shook his head. "No. But I thought you might."

"Why?" Harry said, incredulous. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, have you told anyone?" Draco countered.

"Ron and Hermione," Harry answered instantly.

"But no one else."

"Draco, I don't talk about my personal life with anyone else. You know I end up in the rags if I blow my nose." Harry stared at him. "Is that why you'd think something so stupid? Because I haven't told anyone?"

Draco felt heat spread up his neck and knew his fair complexion had betrayed him once again.

"We never go anywhere. I thought you might…"

"What?" Harry insisted. "Be ashamed of you?"

Draco suddenly felt very defensive. "Well, there are a lot of people who wouldn't blame you!"

When Draco didn't respond, Harry stared at him, and then rolled to his back, exhaling loudly. After that there was silence, and Draco began to fear he shouldn't have said anything. "You know," Harry said finally, "for a very smart man, you can be really dumb."

Draco's mouth dropped open, and he was at a loss for words. Which wasn't something that happened to him often. Slowly, Harry lifted his head, and the hurt in his eyes made Draco physically sick. He dropped the cracker in his hand onto the plate, leaning forward.

"Harry," he began.

Harry held up his hand, stopping the words that wanted to burst from his mouth. He wanted to beg forgiveness, he wanted to tell him his words had all been a mistake, that of course he knew Harry wasn't ashamed of him, that he loved him, and…

It was like a bolt of lightning hit him in the head, traveling down through his body, tingling in his hands and feet. He could almost hear the fizzle as his nerve endings fired.

He loved him.

He loved Harry Potter, and the realisation struck him to his soul.

"The reason I don't take you out in public is because going anywhere in public, unless I go Muggle, is a nightmare and I didn't want to expose you to that. You just say the word, Draco; I'll take you anywhere you want to go. But I thought you understood how much you mean to me."

"I love you." "I love you."

They spoke over one another, then stopped, the room settling into stunned silence.

"What?" "What?"

It happened again, and the ridiculousness of it struck Draco as suddenly, aptly hilarious. His lips trembled.

"Don't speak," Harry ordered, and the look on his face leached away some of Draco's amusement. His eyes were so intense Draco wouldn't have been able to look away if he tried.

"What did you say?"

Naked, exposed, suddenly terrified and not amused at all, Draco licked his lips. This required a level of bravery that made his hands go cold. But he had to say it, didn't he?

"I love you."

There, he thought, it was out now, wasn't it? And Harry stared at him for so long Draco had a distinct desire to throw his wine into the bastard's face, thereby ruining some perfectly lovely Egyptian cotton sheets.

Slowly, Harry turned and set his wine on the nightstand. Then he took Draco's from his unresisting hand and did the same with it. After that followed the plate of food, until once again there was nothing between them but the frightening, stultifying silence. By the time Harry reached for him, Draco feared he'd die from the tension.

Then he was being held in solid, perfect arms, and kissed with such intensity and passion that he wondered if it was possible for a person's bones to turn to jelly. He didn't even respond for a moment, he was so startled; but then he did, and he did so with his whole heart. After long, mindless moments where there was only Harry's mouth and Harry's arms and just… _Harry_ , he pulled back enough to place his mouth next to Harry's ear.

"I love you. And I've never said that to anyone before, so please don't leave me hanging."

Harry tightened his arms around him until Draco found it hard to get a deep breath.

"I love you, too," he said, deep voice trembling. "So much."

"Thank all the gods and goddesses," Draco said, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and his legs around Harry's waist, "thank Merlin, too. If you'd said anything else, I'd have had to hex you into a million pieces, and what a waste of a perfectly good fuck that would have been."

Harry laughed, and it was such a wonderful, joyous sound that Draco could only smile, loving it, loving him, loving everything and everyone, which was a very odd sensation for him, indeed. Harry filled his hands with Draco's arse, holding on as he pushed him down onto his back, once again forcing the air from Draco's lungs and covering his mouth, kissing him before he could even inhale.

Draco's last thought before he was lost in a sensual haze he hoped never to rise from was; _who needs air?_

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Several liberties have been taken in the timeline of this story – one being the fact that _Fucking Fabulous_ by Tom Ford wasn't released until 2017.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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